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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[Boy, that's not a look he expects outside of the mask.

But here we are, and he doesn't even have to pretend to look taken aback. Something about this research lab has gotten Sanji shaken and enraged to his core — and this isn't exactly how he wanted to get information dug up on the guy. After a moment, he takes a step back, and nods with what understanding he can muster (it just barely outweighs the flood of confusion, just barely).]

... Alright. Okay. The interview's tomorrow, so I'll just — tell them I got food poisoning.

Or something.

[A pause. He opens his mouth. Closes it. And — ]

It'll be alright, whatever's going on. I'll see you on the roof. Um. Less eyes and ears there...? Just name when, and I'll be there.

[... Spider-Man's gonna have to investigate this lab, and soon.

But Sanji doesn't need to know that.]

[Sanji does as he's asked, gives Peter a specified time in the afternoon when traffic will be slow and Gloria will be most likely to relieve him for an hour. The roof is best; people here treat it like it's Peter's, or at least what's left of his aunt's -- no one goes up there without permission.

By the time Sanji winds his way up the stairs, a chill has set in the air, one he can feel through his sweatshirt. The plants feel it, too; most of them are shriveled from the winter cold and won't be back until spring, but a few of the more resilient plants are turtling through. Sanji sets himself next to these, sitting criss-crossed on the ground with his hood up... and thinks.

There's no hiding from the truth. His family knows. Coincidences don't run in the Vinsmoke family, after all; his father is no saint, but he's no great fool, either. It was always going to be a matter of time until he caught wind of what his son was doing.

-- It's that Sanji doubted the bastard would care, and he feel the fire boil his blood again, a punishment for overlooking the sadistic tendencies of his relatives. Oh, he can sooth his soul by assuming they sent the invitation on the merit's of Peter's intellect alone, but it doesn't matter in the end. Once they find out Peter knows who Sanji is, they'll toy with him until he's a husk.

He should leave -- no, he should bargain with his father. Keep FEAST and Peter out of their orbit like the peasants they are. Sanji will come home. He'll submit himself more thoroughly this time, the way he couldn't bear to after Wolfwood's death. Surely he owes Peter that much.]

Assuming the bastard won't go snooping around...

[Murmuring to himself with a dejected laugh, and then lowering his head against his knees, trying to rest the great weight of his failures on something stable.

It's his fault, ain't it? Flying off the handle means Peter's good samaritan qualities will hit overdrive. And maybe, just maybe he can handle this bullshit on his family's end, so long as he's got the tools to bargain, but Peter?? He can't seem to make that idiot do anything that's safe for him, and another explosion of fear hits his stomach.

Worst case scenario is Peter connects just enough dots to be considered a nuisance, and one of the Vinsmokes will have him gunned down.]

... You're killing me, Pete'.

... Sorry about that.

[He finally comes up to the rooftop himself, carrying what's definitely a bag of fries and burgers from a little stand he likes to frequent. If there's something he likes to quell his concerns or depressions with, it's either a.) gratuitous jokes or b.) lots of food. He's a little relieved that the roof isn't... on fire... or anything like that, and when he finally reaches Sanji's side he quietly takes a seat next to him.

Honestly, he's really... really nervous. Because he'd been really sure he got Sanji back fully after that awkward fight in the office — hell, he even kept hush-hush about his brother showing up on the steps — and how this letter is yet another threat to everything the guy's made here. There's nothing more awful than thinking he'll be failing the chef, letting him retreat back into his shell. They'd fight as a Vinsmoke and Spider-Man, sure, but there was no doubt he was pulling his punches even more. Limiting his interactions with the mafioso. Trying to nip things before the guy even got a chance to get involved.

Hard to do that and not piss Daddy Vinsmoke off, but it's not like Spider-Man isn't without a crapton of enemies anyway.]

... So.

I guess this is a redo of the kitchen earlier? When I... ask how things are?

[Ah... bastard overheard that, did he?

Sanji doesn't bother looking chastised when he'll be spending all of the next half hour trying not to lose his shit, but he does rub at his face, taking a moment to gather his nervous thoughts before he reaches over and steals whatever fries are in that bag.]

Something like that.

[A beat of quiet. Sanji fidgets with a fry between his fingers, not looking at Peter]

... I know the people who own that facility you were invited to. And trust me -- they deal with some pretty nasty shit. A lot of... genetic modifications. It's why I--

[Why he freaked out at the thought of Peter going there, of course, though Sanji gives a shrug to distance himself from that. Shit's complicated enough without going down that line of thought]

I mean, they only hire the best of the best, so take that as you want it. I'd still give 'em a wide berth. [Glancing at Peter now, his expression grim] It's not worth it.

Edited 2019-04-29 00:58 (UTC)

[Peter quiets, and hears about as much as he expects. A bad place with awful practices, all dressed up to look harmless and helpful. They probably do some really shady crap to keep people there, too, when the money just isn't worth it anymore. It's not necessarily the first run-in he's had with a situation like this, no, but...]

Sandy... How do you know all this?

I mean. Have you, uh. Worked there before?

[Peter feels awful for knowing more than he should, honestly. Because he's more than aware that Sanji's not gonna be a worker bee there. Even still... Maybe there's a way he can carve some information out of this, widdle Sanji down until he tells him enough.]

[He was waiting for that question.

And even after all this time up on the rooftop, trying to reason his way to a safe answer, Sanji still doesn't know what to tell Peter. The truth is too ugly to say outright, but this time a lie might hurt more than it heals.

This will require a deft and delicate hand, he coaches to himself. No mistakes. Deep breath.]

Some relatives of mine were... well, they were involved at some point.

[Vague enough that Sanji isn't technically lying, but offering almost no details. He shoves any semblance of guilt away and keeps talking]

But nah, I never worked there. [A flash of a smile, tight around the edges] Not a nerd like you. Besides, it ain't my area of expertise. All I can do is cook.

[Another half-truth, but more easily shared. Strictly speaking, all of the Vinsmoke children have access to their father's facilities, even the disgraced 3rd son -- just so happens Sanji prefers to keep his hands to himself and almost never sets foot in the labs unless his father requires his attendance.]

[Confirmation.

Bad confirmation. This company's ran by Vinsmokes, and suddenly there's a war in his head between Spider-Man and Peter. Because Peter's worried and anxious for Sanji. And Spider-Man's worried and anxious for New York City. Either way, he supposes those feelings need to make up and join forces, because they want the same thing in the end: for people to be safer.

All the people.

There's a flash of something serious, something steeling in his eyes, and then it's cooled again.]

... Are these relatives in danger? Or you?

[-- And this is exactly what Sanji was afraid of: Peter Parker, missing all the obvious cues that he should look after himself and instead trying to carry someone else's burdens. The blond's eyes nearly roll back into his skull from the frustration.]

I'm fine, so in case you thought this was an invitation to get nosy, stop right there.

[Peter is only one human -- a surprisingly durable human with the luck of the devil, but Sanji doesn't believe in miracles, see. Karma catches up. The scales always balance in the end.

He won't have Peter sticking his neck out for him.]

Don't worry about my relatives, either. We're --

[not on speaking terms]

... We're pretty distant from each other. Whatever happens to them is their own business.

[Peter sighs softly.]

... Alright. [It's not alright. It's really not, and he chews on some of the fries in the bag to stop himself from running his mouth without thinking, one leg crossed over the other.] I promise I won't go working for them, though, okay? This place you're so worried about. I'm not about to screw up what few decent things I've got going for me now. And if something comes up that freaks you out like that... you can always tell me. I'm around for you guys.

[................

He's gonna snoop a hell of a lot.

But that's for way later, away from Sanji's eyes. Hopefully.]

Listen, uh. This isn't going to change you being here or anything, is it...? If I swear I'll stay away from that, you'll stick around? Maybe, I don't know — go out to Larry's again sometime. I'm sure he's wondering why you're not bugging him about the kitchen.

[This almost sounds like a date. Or something.

He stuffs more fries in his mouth, and looks self-conscious about the thought.

Because maybe the kiss hasn't quite been pushed to the back of his mind.

At all.]

[Sanji won't admit it out loud, but that he doesn't have to weasel a promise out of Peter, to look after himself and maybe avoid the sketchy facility, well --

Maybe, just maybe the man's shoulders dip with relief, and his expression loosens into approval.]

You stay away and I'll do whatever you want for an hour, asshole.

[-- Mm, might've laid it on thick there. Well, he supposes he can indulge Peter a bit. Though Peter best believe there's a brief narrowing of Sanji's visible eye at the mention of Larry's, but the smile remains, just having sharpened into amusement.]

Sorry, I gotta lay low for a bit. Larry's is gonna have to wait.

[...]

But I suppose if you need any help moving shit into your apartment... I might be around.

[He blinks at that, genuinely caught off-guard.]

You really would? Help me move in?

[He's not sure why he's caught off-guard, granted, but... it's a nice feeling.

Maybe a good way to pretend this all isn't going to get out of hand badly.

... The, uh, the Vinsmoke stuff. Not the moving stuff. Right.]

It's just helping you move...

[Sanji is not sure why Peter looks surprised by this revelation. Like damn, Sanji knows himself to be an asshole, but even he doesn't see a problem with lifting some boxes.]

Lemme know the date and I'll ask Gloria to give me some time off.

[Some actual time off instead of disappearing without a warning, heh. His smile dims a bit, but the moment quickly passes after he stuffs a few fries into his mouth]

Anyway, you got anymore questions? No promises if I'll answer.

[Well...! Sometimes you spend so much time doing things as Spider-Man, you just kinda... forget... that sometimes you'll do things for you, too. He can't help but feel a little warm at the fact that the offer exists, period.

And when Sanji asks him that question, he's kind of thought off his groove.]

I, uh...! I don't think so... I — mostly just wanted to say...

[Ugh, is he reverting back to 'nerdy 14-year-old Peter in front of a class'?

He's totally reverting. Clearing his throat, he tries again:]

I just wanted to let you know that if anything happens, you can always come to me.

You know that, right?

[And Peter turned it gay.

Of course he did.

-- Which is strangely par for the course when it comes to their interactions. Sanji bets Peter is that guy who will whisper sweet nothings into his partner's ear to calm them down, and the image warrants a snort of amusement.

It's sweet. It's stupid. It's proof that Peter is an idiot so desperate for a connection with someone that even an asshole like Sanji looks palatable. Shaking his head, the blond rummages for the burger still hiding in that take-out bag]

... I know that that's the lamest, most sincere pick-up line I've ever heard.

[Really hope Peter wasn't banking on Sanji's sincerity.

Or his mercy.]

[He laughs miserably.]

Hey, sincere trumps lameness.

[You're really gonna torture him like this, Sanji?

C'mon, man.]

Anyway, I was being serious. If you're having trouble with anything, I'm around to help.

Yeah, yeah.

[Burger acquired, he makes a show of peeling back the foil before splitting off half to give to Peter] I'll keep it in mind if I'm ever in mortal danger and need you to princess carry me to safety.

[So he heard; he just doesn't really believe ya, buddy. You're one, normal person with questionable luck, so as earnest as the sentiment is, Sanji doesn't take the bait any further than a quip. Doing more than that would be a mistake for both of them.

But he'll nudge Peter with his shoulder, in case the other gets a look about him like he's not being taken seriously. Cheer up, Pete'. Sanji hasn't run for the door yet, it's kinda like progress.

... Shit, if he's being honest? This talk went better than expected. He doesn't feel great exactly, or even set at ease, but maybe for the first time in a while, he doesn't feel like... running.]

*****

[-- Now, about that apartment.

Sanji proves to be more excited by Peter having a permanent place of residence than Peter is. He hounds the other with statistics, logistics, the type of neighborhood he'll be shacking up in, it's level of cleanliness before the move date, who is hiring in a moving van -- the devil is in the details, Sanji maintains (probably while waving a spatula at Peter's face), and if he's gonna help move shit in, damn right it'll be smooth sailing with everyone from the landlord to the neighbors falling in line.

If questioned for his sudden zeal, the best anyone gets is a shrug before the man clams up and returns to his recipes. But it's just-- it's some goddamn justice in the world, for once. Good guys like Peter deserve something going for them, some kind of measurable karma to offset the bullshit they go through everyday.

His is a perfectly natural response to seeing his only friend in the world get a Nice Thing, alright? Everyone in FEAST needs to stop grinning like they're watching a romcom in action.

And the move itself turns out to be ... pretty uneventful. Peter's not exactly rollin' in possessions, first off -- even including the donations everyone at the shelter pitched in to buy, it takes only a couple of runs from the move-in truck Sanji "rented" -- "Bastard, for the last time, stop asking me where I got this" -- up the dingy stairs, and into the apartment so small that Sanji almost mistakes it for a closet.

-- Well. He's probably not the best to judge what's considered normal in Queens. Ehem.]

Oi! We got everything? [Sticking his head out from the bedroom, a light sheen of sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead.] I'm tired and hungry, so there's only one right answer.

[Maybe asking Sanji to help was a terrible mistake.

Peter just holds his hands up placatingly and answers every question presented, and sometimes he wonders if he had been this chatty when MJ moved into her own place (not that he's comparing Sanji to his ex-girlfriend, no sure, not happening whatsoever). The apartments aren't stellar, the place is small, and the tenants are... interesting. So basically, despite what gripes Sanji might find in the place, Peter's found himself more than at home. These kinds of places is where he's always lived, and he thrives fairly well here.

Sure, the sounds of two people banging next door is awkward, and the people who do houseparties a floor up might be a thing, but it's really nothing he hasn't faced in the grand scheme of things. Everything's... not really his — and just about every piece of furniture they move in is a piece Peter had tried and failed to turn down. "No, no, I couldn't possibly take this lamp" turned into him standing in the middle of a room of boxes, hugging a tall lamp to his chest.

He's sweating, but the place looks more alive. The walls are kinda crumbly and the floor squeaks and the appliances probably makes Sanji cry, but it's juuust right. Heck, he's got a real bedroom! The last place didn't have a decent bedroom! Now he just needs to find a job that'll help him keep up with the rent...]

Yeah, yeah! I think we're good!

[He turns to the big cork board, littered with childhood photos and drawings and all sorts of things from May's office, smile softening. Yeah, he definitely can't afford to lose this apartment. As he places the lamp in the corner and turns to the mussed head poking around the corner, he smiles a bit more playfully.]

What, you can't wait to make something with an oven from 50 years ago?

Don't fuckin remind me.

[The top of Sanji's gripes about this place? The kitchen, of course, and that Peter is gonna subject himself to technology best left in the history books. Sanji's almost afraid to touch half the shit for fear it'll disintegrate -- or just explode.]

Tch, I should make your ass cook for helping you all day.

[He says, wiping his forehead, knowing damn well this took three hours tops and that everyone's warned him not to leave Peter in the kitchen unsupervised...

Whelp, maybe it's slipping his mind now. He escapes the bedroom, stepping over boxes and slowly tracking his way to the kitchen.]

Do we even got food to cook...?

Are you really sure you'd want me to burn down the place right when I moved in?

[He grins at that, though, and steps to the side, looking at the fridge with some trepidation. Because oh, yeah... well. He really doesn't have a lot going on there, does he? He combs through the cabinets a bit and eventually makes a very tiny and concerning mound of almost nothing on the counter — warm soda cans, some vegetables, olive oil and pepper, and all other manner of hopelessly limited things you'd find in the cupboards of guy who orders mostly takeout.

He folds one arm, pressing the other's palm to his cheek helplessly.

Well.]

... You've worked with worse, right?

-- Alright, new rule.

No takeout for a week. We're going grocery shopping later so you can buy some real food.

[Said after staring at the downright pitiful offerings Peter presents. Between the cans of tuna and half-limp vegetables, yeah, he can manage something that's edible, but Peter best believe Sanji is going to complain the entire time about his eating habits.

Anyway, gonna elbow the other out of the kitchen (not a lot of space in here to begin with), with Sanji rolling up his sleeves like a magician about to pull a rabbit out of the stove]

Go sit somewhere and look pretty while I'll handle this.

[Peter doesn't skip a beat, moving to hop up and sit on the counter —

And strike a generic Covergirl Model Pose with his hands at his chin.

Aaand hold.]

Like this, my heroic master chef?

[What a bastard.]

[HA FUCKIN HA, this man thinks he's funny.]

Sure, keep that pose for the next two hours, would ya?

[Look at that, Sanji can be funny, too.]

... That's gonna be a rough challenge.

You sure you won't throw me out the window thirty minutes into staring at you like this?

[He's still holding the pose, for sample.]

Please Mr. Ramsay, no death by defenestration; I have so much to live for...!

[Y'know what, Sanji is gonna make this easy on both of them by throwing a towel (who the heck knows where he got it from) at the other's head, right over Peter's eyes.]

Oi now, I'd give you at least ten minutes to get your affairs in order.

That's fair, right? You can go with no regrets.

Only ten, huh...? I guess I could make it work.

[WHAP. Ah, yess, a towel to the head. At least it's a new one, so kindly donated by some little old lady — you can tell because it'd absolutely be something hanging in an elderly lady's house, with flowers and little bees and the whole nine yards.

He leaves the towel there anyways.]

So, what's the prognosis? Can you make something fancy?

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