Peter Parker | Spider-Man (PS4) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quipsandthwips) wrote2018-10-07 12:32 am
quipsandthwips) wrote2018-10-07 12:32 am
[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.
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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Peter grins so very wide, twirling a spoon around between his fingers like its a drumstick.]
Is Fancy Sandy a Disney film buff?
An all-knowing critic and fanboy of the mouse ears?
[This is perfect. The best move-in ever. He's thrilled.]
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[It's not even suspicion on Sanji's part; he just hates being called out like this?? Hello???]
Also: fuck you. The food's getting cold, so shut up and eat already.
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[But he can't stop grinning like an asshole, as he starts digging into the food. Literally one bite in and he's melting against the back of the couch, groaning a muffled groan. Whadda pig.]
I feel like I haven't eaten in years, I'm so hungry. This food's enchanted, isn't it? This is gonna be a Hansel and Gretel thing. You're gonna shove my bloated tuckus into a cauldron later, aren't you?
[He's the worst and should be thrown out the window really.]
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Just throw the whole bastard away]
Tch! Like I'd put that much effort into cooking you. If I wanted to turn into a shitty wendigo, it wouldn't because of your wiry ass, that's for sure.
[Taking a much more dignified bite of his food as he reclines into the couch, and... eh. It's alright. Not his best, as he already suspected, which makes him all the more secretly amused by Peter's antics]
And have you ever tried wearing those hats? Either you staple 'em to your head or they get in the way.
[... No one in this room should be surprised that Sanji wore a ten-story chef hat. Of course he fuckin did]
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You really wore those? A real chef's hat?!
Dude. We need to get you one for FEAST, ASAP.
[He may or may not also jab the squeaky-cleaned spoon at Sanji, for effect.]
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[Also so long as that spoon isn't jabbed in his side --
at which point he'll make an undignified squawk and scoot away bc
he's ticklish
you asshole]
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And then a concerningly mischevious grin pulls across his lips, as he wriggles his fingers with sinister intentions.]
Ohohoho... A natural weakness...
Whatever should I do with this new information?
/returns with upgraded account again and starbucks
[They've escalated to screaming. This is going well.
And Sanji is not about to scoot back next to Peter under any circumstances, huddled against the couch end like a lady trying to protect her dignity.]
And it's not a weakness! Some people were just born with sensitive bodies!
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[It's famous last words as he lunges and prepares to dig his rude-ass fingers into Sanji's sensitive ribcage.
Is he about to die? Maybe. But at least he can die accomplished.
Livin' the dream right now, this one.]
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But assuming God is on his side, the other makes a precision strike that immediately draws a squirm and a guffaw from Sanji before he just starts howling obscenities for Peter to get off, you goddamned bastard!
-- That he's laughing helplessly and still looking for escape kind of undercuts the threat though, so.
RIP buddy.]
F-fuck you! I hate you! Go to hell already!
[IS THERE A PILLOW HE CAN RETALIATE WITH? NO? FINE he'll just start smacking Peter on the back or shoulders or wherever he can reach in an desperate bid to make him get off]
I'm never feeding you again!
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Whoa whoa whoa, going to hell or hating me is one thing —
But never feeding me again? You've gone too far!
[How offensive!]
I'll starve! I'm still a growing boy with a fast metabolism!
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folding his arms protectively over his stomach and then using a foot to ease Peter away from him. Personal bubble, plz. The tickling crusade has ended]
Oh? You mean your frozen tv dinners and takeout won't be there to comfort you?
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... Hey now, takeout's delicious. Especially that little Panda-Something on the corner.
I could eat those noodles for weeks.
[Of course he could. Of course.]
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But a movie isn't the end of the world. It's okay.
And y'know, maybe he's been exhausting himself doing it. Between helping with FEAST and doing Spider-Man stuff and going to job interviews (after turning down that concerning interview Sanji freaked out about), he's wiped. And so halfway through their movie... he sort of just... goes to sleep.
Sorry, Sanji, he's slumping your direction.
It's not a tickle rematch, though, made more clear by the soft snore that emits from him.]
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And of course, at the halfway mark is when he feels a weight against his sides. Light enough to be bearable, warm enough to be distracting. Sanji tenses in place and doesn't dare looking anywhere but dead center at the TV.
Peter doesn't move -- just snores away and makes himself comfortable on Sanji's shoulder. The asshole.
And that's when the nervousness fills his mouth, the corners of his lips catching into a light frown. He's stopped watching the movie by this point, too distracted by the warmth on his right side. Damn it. It's like everywhere he turns, Peter is determined to be stupidly charming. If not in the name of friendship, then always with that secret, puppy-dog gaze of his, like someone waiting patiently for a miracle to occur.
Sanji doesn't know what type of man Peter thinks he is, but he's no saint. He's just a brick wall that can feel his foundations starting to weaken, bit by bit. It'll be a fuckin disaster for both of them.]
I really hate you, y'know?
[Speaking brazenly into the air, defiant, pretending that Peter might hear him in his sleep and feel guilty for the inconvenience.
Sanji pretends he doesn't notice how his claim loses all of its fire when he continues to sit there, allowing the other to rest into him.]
----
[And three hours later, with his arms still folded and his own head now tucked over Peter's, breathing deeply in sleep, Sanji hears a faint knock at the door.
The sound is so soft it's disorienting, and Sanji's eyebrows knit in irritation. Only when the knocking persists does he growl, head lifting, bleary-eyed and struggling to remember where he's at.
His eyes drop a fraction to a headful of brown hair, and -- ah. Right. This bullshit.
... Well. The asshole's had a long day. It wouldn't do if he woke up because someone's clamoring at his door. With more care than he'll ever admit to, Sanji very slowly pulls himself away, using a wall of pillows to keep the other propped up while he eases himself off the couch. He's still half-asleep by the time he gets to the front door, a hand threading through his hair so that it won't look like an untamed nest]
Oi, the fuck do you want, it's gotta be like--
["Language, Alessandro. Really."
His sister crosses her arms, warmed by a fur coat that must be a new gift from their father -- frowning lightly while she brushes her bangs away from her eyes. That Sanji turns pale doesn't seem to concern her. The woman's eyes tick behind him before every part of her expression turns polished and glassy, adorned with a casual smile.
"Oh, you needn't worry. I'm not here for Mr. Parker. I made sure I wasn't followed here, either, so -- you're welcome, of course."
She leans forward, just an inch, using Sanji's stunned silence to her advantage.
"You're so bad at covering your tracks, so I figured I should warn you -- Father isn't very pleased with you at the moment... he's going to send Ichiji to track you down if you don't come home soon." Pulling backward, ruffling up the furs around her neck to keep out the chill. Her eyes remain on him.
"Remember, we're required to be present for Father's newest... experiment"]
... Don't tell me shit I already know, Reiju.
["Hm. So you say."
Another smile. Her eyes tick toward the door again.
"Well, I'm not here to interrupt your date, of course. Just a warning. Do what you will with it, I really don't care." The smile sharpens into a knife point, followed by a short but amused huff when Sanji shoots her a disgruntled look. "Oh stop that, I'm sure even Mr. Parker won't kiss a face like that."]
For shit's sake, would you leave already?
["Right, right. Enjoy your night then, Alessandro."
Turning away with another smile, this one almost a leer of amusement, the clip of her heels following her all the way down the stairs and out of sight.]
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Maybe he pretends not hear too much of it.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Remember, we're required to be present for Father's newest... experiment.
He has to fight himself subconsciously not to react to that. Alright — he's gotta go look into that. As soon as possible. Because he's going to have a troubled mind if he doesn't do something. Maybe not just for the city, but... y'know. Does he even have to say it?
Does he even have to admit the blush that creeps over his face, when she mentions a kiss? It's not until he hears her leaving that he manages to wrangle his thoughts; he sits up slowly, rubbing one eye, admittedly as sleepy as he sounds.]
Uh — hey. Someone at the door...?
[Plan for tomorrow night: collect what's needed to take out the Vinsmokes.
... Hopefully once and for all, with Daddy Vinsmoke behind prison bars.]
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[Sanji tries to sound friendly. He probably succeeds. That Peter is awake and staring at him with that doe-eyed look curls tension in his stomach, but he knows better than to drop this act for anything.
It's not the guy's business, first off. It's a death sentence for another.
Sanji shouldn't have come here, he realizes belatedly, like he always does whenever his sister has to come in cleaning up his messes. The smile remains on his face, but the muscles of his shoulders stiffen into balls. He remains standing by the couch, refusing to sit]
... s'kinda late. I dunno, maybe I should leave...
[Rubbing at his neck and just. not looking Peter directly in the eye]
Can't be comfortable sharing a shitty couch and all.
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Right, riiight, it's getting late. Wow, I didn't realize how tired I was...
[It was nice. Getting a little rest. Y'know. All that. Aha.]
You need a noble warrior to walk you to the street, m'lady?
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Sure, if you're asking.
[He will likely never see Peter again after this, will he? The guy will spend the rest of his life wondering what happened to this blond idiot who has caused him nothing but trouble, because that's just the type of person Peter is. Warm and kindhearted. More than Sanji has ever deserved.
He walks to the door, calling after his shoulder]
Whenever you're ready.
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A more impish smile pulls at his face, and despite the danger that lingers in the not-to distant future — ]
I'll be the Zazu to your Simba?
[He'll at least always be a royal pain as the dumb joke king.
Right?]
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[Yeah, the dumb joke king. That's him.
Let's back up a little, huh? To the beginning of a new night, where Peter Parker's clothes were left in his stupid duffel and Spider-Man came to life, all with one goal in mind: to take down the Vinsmokes, collect concrete evidence for Yuri to commence a full investigation, and maybe knock out a few goons along the way. Fisk had been tough to take down, and Peter had learned the hard way it took real police work — involving people with power that a vigilante hero didn't have.
Fair enough.
He'd gotten a load of interior shots of the Vinsmoke's place of work... which by the way? Horrific stuff, would rather not investigate again. It'd all been taken and is currently in the process of being directly downloaded into Detective Yuri's hands when things go poorly for the ol' Spider.
That is, a bunch of Vinsmoke kids beat the fucking shit out of him.
So he ends up on the ground, drugged, blood in his mouth and too many bones already busted — and then they're dragging him into a chair, roping him into it while his super-strength's drastically diminished by — by whatever's... coursing through him... God, it's so hard to think. He can hear the others shuffling around, bitching and moaning about extra work, and judging from their chatter, they must know he'd sent credible intel to someone in the city.
"We'll just beat it out of him," one says.
"That's not how you torture a man properly," another says.
Spider-Man's head lulls left and right, red spittle seeping through the bottom of his mask. As footsteps fade, he can hear one person left to keep an eye on him — one that wastes no time in peeling his mask back. "Now let's see who this dreadful Spider-Man is—" the woman (he knows that voice) says... and then she freezes. Peter opens anvil-heavy eyelids to look at Reiju's unusually surprised face.
She pulls the mask back down.
They return. Fingers move to his mask again, and he jerks slightly at it, his senses only barely returning enough that he's aware of what danger lurks with the touch. Reiju speaks up: "Ah-ah-ah. I received word from father, and he's adamant that he'll be the first to see the identity of Spider-Man. You wouldn't want to anger him now of all times, would you?"
And so Spider-Man's left as-is.
And though his strength isn't returning in full, he seems to remember how to use his admittedly numbed mouth:]
... Gotta say, your decor here is a nightmare...
[And here we are again.
Tied to a chair, wheezing in pain, the red-headed nightmare circling him like a vulture. Which is just par the course for him, isn't it? "He didn't say hurting him a little more for information was off the table, did he? It's more than imperative we find out who he's reporting to, hmm?"
At that, Reiju has very little to say.]
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Sanji says nothing at all.
He is present, like he promised he would be, but holed up in a corner of the room like he's the only thing supporting the walls, and has watched in vague disgust as Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji took turns pulverizing their newest toy. Sanji would've told the masked idiot to not underestimate how paranoid his father is; there are cameras watching the cameras, and sneaking in is virtually impossible.
-- Which, to be fair, Arachnid Boy is now aware of. Tch. The blond scoffs under his breath, eyes turned to drill a hole in the wall. Just because he's here doesn't mean he's gotta give a shit about the proceedings.
"... Are we boring you, Sanji?"
Ichiji glances over his shoulder, a small pocket knife worth as much as a new car being casually flipped open and shut while he stands next to Spider-Man. There's a smile on his face that doesn't come close to reaching his eyes.
"Daydreaming of your boyfriend?"
It's like the glow of a laser pointer suddenly shifting between prey, and Sanji wills himself not to visibly stiffen. The snarl in his voice is palatable]
Fuck off, Ichiji. Be useful or some shit.
["Oh, but I am."
Spider-Man isn't being forgotten, make no mistake; his punishment has just been delayed ever so slightly. Even with the future of the Vinsmoke legacy on the line, Ichiji is a confident man, dripping with calm efficiency. He rests a hand on Spider-Man's shoulder like they're old friends, drums his fingers over the tattered suit.
"I noticed your Peter Parker declined an invitation to Father's facility. I wonder why."
Reiju speaks next, voice calm but with an underlying warning from where she stands -- "Alessandro's questionable taste in men has nothing to do with extracting information, I would think."
"Of course not; but I'm not fond of traitors." Ichiji's slight smile widens an inch. "Neither is Father."
The knife is thrown at Sanji's feet in that moment. Niji smirks and Yonji hoots. Reiju's mouth purses into a thin line as Sanji's expression turns stony and cold. Everyone in that room knows damn well that Ichiji is only baiting him, maybe even preparing to use his own brother as a scapegoat should Spider-Man refuse to talk. But more importantly--
Spider-Man's suffering comes second to Sanji's. And his softhearted fool of a brother won't refuse this, not when another's life is on the line.
... When Sanji drops his head, numbly picks up the knife without a word, Ichiji nods in satisfaction and steps away from the chair.
"Oh, I'll pick up your slack once you fail, of course. But I think you owe everyone proof that you remember what family you belong to."]
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[Sanji only speaks when he's kneeled in front of Spider-Man, visible eye void of all emotion. Keeping his voice down? A waste of time. Everyone in the room can hear him, and Sanji knows all Ichiji really wants is a good show before he decides Sanji's too incompetent to see this shit through. Then he'll tattle to their Father, Sanji will be punished (or perhaps at last, killed), and the whole shitty cycle gets to start over.
Wordlessly, he flips the knife between his fingertips. Old kitchen trick he used to show off to Peter when he was in a good mood. It turns his stomach and fills it with bile, but that's easily ignored in the moment.]
-- Also, your mask is stupid.
[Punctuating that remark by driving the tip of the knife directly into Spider-Man's thigh, watching idly as it slides through the muscle like butter.]
Anyway. Talk. Who'd you send information to?
[... And now, much softer, leaned in next to the hero's ear so it's a voice only he will catch:]
I suggest you hurry it up unless you want Ichiji doing this instead.
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A strangled, wounded sound escapes him, tapering off into a miserable whimper he can't quite stave off in his condition. Despite that — he's not going to talk. Unfortunate for everyone involved, isn't it? He's really, really good at just suffering.]
... Y're face... is stupid...
[He's not really sure what other option Sanji has. It's not his fault, anyway. Spider-Man busted in, and Spider-Man's getting his ass grilled by the baddies, and Sanji was unfortunate enough to be born into it. And despite Sanji's whisper into his ear, the trembling figure just shakes his head.]
Sanji... This isn't you...
[A dull pain knocks around in his head. His arms and legs ache. Ribs aren't great. At least his fingers are pretty put-together? He's managing consciousness... sorta. Heh. Shitballs. He whispers quietly, blood blooming further on his lower mask from a torn lip and bit tongue — ]
... Can be... better... than them.
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[it's said without heat or passion, the tone of a man whose been thrown into this type of chaos before. He watches Spider-Man twist and whimper in his seat, and pretends to be beyond it all.]
Ain't gonna pretend I'm not the nicest of the bunch, but...
[Pulling the knife out of his thigh, and blood splatters in response, soaking into the other's costume. Sanji's jaw works as he watches. Funny, how superheroes bleed just as easily as a civilian.]
You don't talk, you lose an eye next.
["... That will be unnecessary, Alessandro."
Without warning, the knife is plucked from Sanji's hand, and Reiju stands behind him with an unreadable expression. There's a mutter of disapproval that ripples behind her -- Ichiji takes a step forward as if to intervene, only to be cut off with a look of warning, the authority of the eldest sibling.
"Ichiji, your amusement comes second to our goals." Pocketing the knife away before folding her arms, facing the rest of her brothers. "If Alessandro were to slip up, rest assured I would be informing Father of who guided his hand, even slightly."
It's a bold, dangerous statement to make, and the already cold room turns frigid with irritation. Reiju hardly blinks.
"We'll continue this when Father arrives. No one is to touch Spider-Man without his permission, given none of you seem capable of interrogating him without bleeding him dry."
"... Hm. If you say so, Reiju."
Ichiji responds with a chilly smile, a shrug, turning away from her and Sanji with his eyes on the door. "I trust you will be first in line when Father asks for volunteers."
"But of course." She glances at her nails, heels tapping as she waits for the rest of her brothers to file out. At no point does she spare Sanji or Spider-Man a glance. "I'm much better than you when it comes to extracting information."]
... Reiju.
[Muttered some seconds later when it's only the three of them inside the interrogation room; Sanji's voice remains blank even as his expression darkens with some emotion that's almost as unreadable as Reiju's flippant disinterest. But she stops him before he can say more, tossing an exasperated glance his way. She also walks through the door.
"You have thirty seconds. Try not to be anymore of a blind fool than you are."]
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CRIES I THOUGHT I HAD REPLIED ALREADY
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kicks down door 100 years later