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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[A broken, jaded statement that might as well be the truth as he tips his head and stares at the ceiling, blinded by hurt and exhaustion. A camera in the corner watches on as his arms drop helplessly to his sides]
And after I told you not to come.
[Peter Parker never did listen to him when it counted, did he? Heh.]
... Oi. Just rest for a sec.
[The numbness means it doesn't even hurt to say it, and Sanji's voice, suddenly, is almost kind. Warm. The person he was probably meant to be in a sweeter world.
He rubs at his neck and glances at the camera, still recording.
It explodes in a mess of fire, the debris falling like ash to the floor. Not even a second later, an alarm blares.]
... It'll be fine, Pete.
[The ropes securing Peter in place snap free -- another casualty of a well-placed flame before Sanji walks over to him, all business, and hoists the guy over his shoulder.
Even if he hates him a little for betraying him this whole time... it'll be okay.]
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S — sorry. I'm sorry, I'm...
[He's going to make this worse. Could get Sanji killed right now. But there's really no way he's gonna be able to walk out of here on his own; he's so hurt, he's honestly just trying to keep conscious. The wound in his thigh seeps immediately into the front of Sanji's shirt. He's talking too quiet to hear every word, but at least two slip through:]
... messed up...
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[Match made in heaven, aren't they. Both of them just constantly hounded by their shitty mistakes as they desperately pretend to be better people than who they are -- or, no. That's only Sanji's excuse, isn't it? Between the two of them, Peter's always been the bleeding heart, reaching out a kind hand to whoever needed it.
The half-shredded mask over the guy's face only proves what Sanji knew the whole time. Peter Parker and him were always meant to be worlds apart.]
C'mon already, shut your mouth. Stay conscious. It's gonna get bumpy.
[With no time to be gentle, Sanji power walks to the doors -- expensive, durable, and heavy enough to suffer a bomb blast and live through it, but even on lockdown with the alarms blaring, a Vinsmoke is a Vinsmoke. Sanji still has full access to the facilities. All the pad to the right has to do is scan his face and a second later, the doors slide open.
He's got 30 seconds, tops, before his brothers show up.
So he runs. Down the hall, trying desperately to be mindful of the bleeding man he has tucked over his shoulder, ignoring the confused shouting of goons who don't even realize what's happening. They see Sanji and scurry to get out of his way, not realizing it'll be their death sentence once Ichigi finds out who let his little brother pass]
Two floors left. Hold on.
[Just up two flights of stairs and through the front doors to freedom. Maybe, maybe luck will be on their side tonight.]
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He's had worse. Not his first time being this screwed up, and he's still breathing.
He speaks up, suddenly, voice weak.]
B-blood trail.
[He's not sure if it even matters. But the moment his eyes focus, he notes the plip-plip of the occasional red dot just behind Sanji's footfalls. From Peter's thigh, from his mouth and nose, seeped through the mask; he's pretty sure that's not internal bleeding — it's just a busted face. He fades out again, eyes closing. He's floating. Arms and legs are limp, floppy, almost lifeless. Startles back awake with a shiver. Blurry, bobbing vision tries to adjust.
... Mask? He paws at his face, trying to curl the mask back up.]
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[Spoken a little breathless as he continues to double time it down the hallway, Sanji already starting to feel the exertion of escape hit his system. Figures that the moment the stakes are high that his performance dares to drop.
But thank the shitty gods, he can see the door to the stairwell within distance. Even if it's not clear of his father's subordinates, they'll be too discombobulated to put up a fight, and that's assuming they even bother aiming their guns. The only luck his family name has ever brought him -- no one dares to challenge a Vinsmoke to battle.
"-- Well. What do we have here?"
-- Scratch that. No one dares to challenge a Vinsmoke except another fuckin Vinsmoke.]
Goddamnit--
[Hissing under his breath, voice thin and sharp as his heart makes a mad escape from his rib cage. Some days all his brothers sound the same to him, but only Niji can nail such an ugly combination of sadistic delight. And from his peripheral he already sees it -- a smooth patchwork of ice that climbs along the walls, following almost as fast as Sanji can run.
Nope. Scratch that again. Concern for keeping Peter stable on his back slows down Sanji's pace, and the ice outperforms him in the last inning. The blood drains from the man's face as he watches the door freeze over.
Ah.
So he has less than a second, maybe, to make a decision before his brother is upon him, huh?
Rush the door. Stop and fight. Give up Peter and beg for mercy.]
-- Sorry about this.
[It's all the warning Peter is allowed before he's unceremoniously tossed right off of Sanji's back. Every broken bone or cracked rib will likely feel the impact of him hitting the floor, but Sanji's got bigger problems on his hands -- namely pivoting on his heel and taking the full brunt of a punch against his calf in defense, his body buckling as his brother gives a manic grin.
"Going somewhere?"]
Sure fuckin was, asshole! [Not one of his best comebacks. Kinda squeezed dry for material. But Sanji tries his best to grin back and keep his gaze away from Peter, forcing himself to stare his soulless brother in the face knowing one of them's probably gonna die in the next half-minute...
Surely Peter can fuckin stay put in that amount of time.]
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Get thrown around, get his bones jostled, maybe squeeze out a few pained tears. He can't exactly stop the strangled sound of pain that heaves out through his teeth, laying on the ground and trying not to see watery spots in his vision. His mask is curled partway up his face, revealing that pink-tinged grimace as he fights to stay awake. Focus on the weird throbbing in all your limbs, he thinks. Yeah, that oughta do it.
He can't really focus that well on what's going on, but he knows it isn't great. Violence — fighting, two people going toe to toe. Probably literally, knowing Sandy. Sanji. There's a warm patch of blood under one leg, and he feels cold all over, shivering as he pulls his mask back down over his discolored lips and chin.
He thinks he hears Sanji make a sound of pain.
... Webshooters. They took the ones on his wrist. Didn't realize he has a spare in case of this very situation. Sneaky, sneaky spider, right? He slowly applies the bracelet-like cuffs to his wrists, locks them into place, rolls himself onto his side. Niji? Niji. He's flying into action — Peter's not sure in his haze where Sanji's at in this picture, but all he needs to know is Niji's shooting forward to attack him.
Wheezing tiredly, he presses one hand to the ground under him. Maximum sticky.
With the other, he fires a long string of web, aiming to hit Sanji's brother in the ankle with it.
And once it finds purchase —
He yanks it, hard as he can.]
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Ha. Kinda stings, doesn't it, having concrete proof that his flesh and blood would kill him if just given the chance.
"Goddamn, when'd you get so pathetic at fighting, eh?!
A manic laugh followed by a punch that catches Sanji's shoulder, and he grimaces, sliding back on his heels and tightening his core to keep his balance. The pain is a minor issue; that he can feel the tendrils of frostbite eating into his skin? That's, uh. That's no good. Kicking someone doesn't do shit if he falls over because his right arm can't catch his weight.
Damn it.
And his psychopath of a brother knows he's got Sanji trapped, too. The red glow from the alarm system catches the gleam of Niji's manic grin as he charges, arm pulled backward to deliver another blow.
Before he subsequently falls straight on his face.
... Mm.
It's. It's something out of a comic book -- slapstick, banana-peel nonsense, because the good guys always gotta win, right? -- and Sanji almost gives a weak laugh at the height of his adrenaline rush. Saved by Spider Man. Saved by Peter. Gods, he hates this day.
Well, business first. With detached efficiency, he aims a kick at his brother's head, watching the other's shock immediately bludgeon into unconsciousness. One Vinsmoke down. And he doesn't have time to be smug, to be disappointed, just powerwalking over to where Peter is while clutching his arm that's nearly a block of ice.
He drops to one knee, and with his functional hand pulls the mask more securely underneath the other's chin.]
Oi. Tell me this suit's actually fireproof for once.
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[Sorry, but he did try his best, okay? It's better than nothing. He feels kind of distant, his brain is fuzzy. It's not a new feeling per se, not in this line of work, but it does slowly concern him; usually this kinda means he might die? One of those times he'd have texted MJ to remind her he loves her, or the time he'd text May to remind her she was an amazing person and he was proud to be her nephew. It's probably... not as bad as it feels. Or maybe it's worse than it feels? He's not sure.
But... just in case...]
Sanji — if I don't make it out, I just... wanna apologize — for everything...
And — and tell you I, uh...
[Unless you want to hear a lot of sappy, dramatic shit, best to shut him up now, bud.]
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Fine. I'll wait.
[Wait for what, he doesn't elaborate. He's already moving to pull Peter over his back again, hissing when his sore muscles protest against doing this shit one-handed. Niji's out for the count (leave him there on the floor, he convinces himself, don't kill your brother, you're not that desperate yet, idiot--), but Ichiji will soon be upon them if they don't hurry the fuck up outta this building, so they gotta... they gotta...
The fatigue is starting to hit him. Sanji can tell. His mind clicks like an unarmed gun, shooting blanks, his heart beating double time in his chest. In the haze of his thoughts, he swears he hears Peter talking, apologizing, saying a bunch of nonsense Sanji doesn't want to hear right now, and--]
Shut the hell up.
[Damn right he means to be unkind, but instead his voice comes out wounded, and that just increases the hurt. The blond grits his teeth as Peter's weight settles against his back once more]
Don't you feed me some half-assed confession like you're about to die.
[One foot in front of the other. Shit he's done every day of his life, no matter how many times his own family tried to break his spirit, or kill anyone who dared consider him a friend, or even when his mother died--
It's gonna be a bumpy ride, kicking through that frosted door and barreling up the stairs, but just like before he coaches himself: one foot in front of the other until by some miracle, they sprint right out of the building's side emergency exits.
The front door? Would've been suicide. And he might be desperate, but Sanji likes to think he isn't an idiot yet. A side exit might buy them a couple precious seconds to find a hiding spot, give Sanji a chance to inspect the worst of Peter's wounds... and so he recites his plan like it's the only recipe for survival he's got on hand, bracing against New York's biting weather as he steals down the first alleyway he can find.
-- And then quickly changes his mind, deciding no, he best not stop at all if he hopes to escape. Right back out of the alleyway he goes, his frozen arm stiff against his side. It's hard to keep track of how long he runs -- Sanji's too busy focusing on avoiding the pedestrians still walking about this time of night. They might be New Yorkers but Spider-Man is still Spider-Man, he'll gather plenty of attention draped half-bloodied and bruised over some blond dude's shoulder, but neither can he take to the skies when Ichiji knows that's his favorite way to travel.
Just keep running. Just keep running]
-- Peter, I gotta-- you need bandages, so I gotta set you down somewhere--
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[It comes out surprisingly firm and sure, despite how weak the rest of him is. He knows that Sanji's basically the only way he's gonna get out of this alive — he couldn't stand on his own two feet right now if his life depended on it — but he's more worried about Sanji getting caught or hurt far more than him. So he grits his teeth, forces his vision to clear for the moment, and clenches a fist in Sanji's shirt.]
Don't stop 'til — we're out...
[Out of danger, out of the situation, out.]
... Loew's... 46th St. Theatre... I've got emergency supplies inside.
[What better place to put an emergency area than an abandoned theater? Sure, they're probably gonna turn it into something else someday, but he can appreciate the secrecy it provides for a Spider-Man with a burn or a cut. Or... a lot of broken bones, stabby spots, and general hurtness. We're not gonna focus on that right now.
His voice is tight, pained, as he pushes on:]
Can you make it there?
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There was only a 50% chance Sanji would have come back anyway with his family on the prowl.]
Yeah. Just hold on.
[Amazing how much calmer he sounds when there's a plan in place besides "run like your life depends on it." There's no way they could've escaped to FEAST, or Peter's apartment, or any of Sanji's usual hideouts. So an abandoned theater will do nicely, and Sanji maps the way out in his head, still careful to avoid whatever crowds are in their way.
It'll... take a while for that reason. Peter's blood on his back and his frozen arm are issues they need to address, soon, but it'll be for naught if Sanji gets caught. Nerves and anxiety are discarded for a more methodical approach, until at last the theater slowly blooms into view.
Not a soul in sight. He steals through the doors and breathes a sigh of relief when his voice is the only thing that echoes in the empty spaces of the theater.]
Alright, where are the supplies?
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[He laughs weakly, and 'holds on'. Or rather just dips in and out of consciousness. There's no immediate reply to Sanji's question; Peter just hangs limp, a boneless ragdoll, and it feels unnaturally still for a moment before Peter sucks in a short breath. Someone startled out of an unpleasant sleep, almost, and he tries to shift himself on Sanji's shoulders. Sanji can probably feel a few of Peter's ribs pushing unnaturally from the pressure as he adjusts nervously.
Don't sweat it, bud. Spider-Man's broken dozens of bones in his life, all over the place, all the time. Totally no different than usual! Kinda. Well, having someone you're currently having feelings for really puts a wrench in things, Pete thinks.]
R — right.
13G.
[He waves his hand toward the direction of the row and seat, and if the other man decides to go investigate, he'll find the entire thing lifts up out of its screws and demonstrates a handy little hiding space full of medical supplies. And a few wrappers from the last time Peter had to come here.
There's a soft cough, strained.]
... Feeling tender.
Put me down... please?
[This is not a very conductive way to nap.]
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He doesn't lift shit, just kicks the poor seat wide open and watches the supplies tumble forward like the world's cheapest slot machine.]
Huh. Not bad, Arachnid Boy.
[A quick scan shows that there's enough supplies to take care of most of his injuries -- well, strike that. What Peter needs is a damned hospital bed with an IV drip, but beggars can't be choosers today. They're scrapping by as is. After he finds a relatively dust-free patch of aisle to work with, Sanji makes good on setting Peter down on his back.
... And finally survey the damage. Who knows how that suit manages to stay put on the best of days, but right now it's a half-shredded mess of cloth and technology, doing little to hide the wince-worthy angles of Peter's ribs. For a moment, all Sanji can do is stare and feel his mouth turn to cotton at the sight of so matted blood...]
The-- the suit's gotta come off.
[Forcing his voice to remain calm, all business again, as he briefly leaves Peter's side to fetch some of the bandages and gauze.]
If you can't wiggle yourself outta it, I'm ripping it off.
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... Cut me, Mick, I can't see.
[Hardy hardy har. He's so funny and you know it.
His eye flutters shut, as he steadies his breathing.]
Treat your arm first... Not gonna be able to treat me, if your arm's messed up...
[Really, he doesn't care much about whether Sanji can help him or not; he just wants to make sure the idiot doesn't lose his arm. The leg isn't bleeding anymore, at least? That's also thanks to Peter's weird, unnatural body and the way it processes injury. So nifty. Ignore the fact that he could really use some more blood right about now.]
... Arm first.
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Just like good ol' Peter. Never one for trouble. Always helpful. The type of guy the regulars at FEAST would fawn over like he was their collective son.
Sanji catches himself staring at the newly discarded mask, one he's seen more times than he can suddenly stomach, and his expression dims into a calculated stiffness. After the seconds have settled, he turns away from Peter and stares at the half-frozen lump dangling at his side.]
Yeah.
[Arm first. Sure thing, Spider-Man. A little questionable making sure your enemy's the one who recovers, but that's just the type of hero you are, eh?
He bites the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood, and then begins.
Pumping heat back into an arm this fargone to necrosis? Frankly, Sanji should just cut the damned thing off and be done with it. Unfortunately he's gonna need two hands to look after the idiot who poked the Vinsmoke nest, so he bears through the process, sweat beading along his forehead and temples as he watches the previously frozen skin burn black like ash. It's stupid, really -- Sanji's not a magician who can heal from an ice wound on command. That's only for extreme burns.
... So it's just a manner of mangling himself in a way his body recognizes.
Luckily, the process doesn't require he completely wrap himself in flames - the moisture from the ice makes that a non-issue. Once his skin begins to knit itself back together, scabbing and healing over, Sanji barks out a breath that he didn't know he'd be holding, then winces from the fragrance of burn flesh. Nooot a smell he'll ever get used to.
Whatever. The deed's pretty much done. Only halfway healed, but it's enough to get his fingers clutching, his elbow creaking. His eyes slide back over to Peter]
There. Finished. Now I'm taking the suit off -- at least the top part.
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Sure thing.
[And while Sanji's busy with taking the top of the suit off, Peter's suddenly really glad he's wearing underwear this round. He tries to steady his breathing, feeling Sanji's hand brush his skin as he works. He sucks in a small breath, and then offers a smile.]
... You gonna draw me like one of your French girls?
[Will joking around help distract from how discolored and fucked up his torso is, currently?
It's fine. He's had worse.
He's pretty sure it won't kill him, and if it doesn't, it'll just take a few days to mend itself. It's nifty, right? Not a weird nightmarish concept at all, and Sanji's got no room to talk after he just burned his own arm to try and fix it. What a bunch of freaks we are.]
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[No, there's no amount of jokes that'll distract Sanji from this. Peter's chest is -- it's. It's. God. A patchwork of bruises, protruding bones underneath discolored skin, ugly lacerations peppered all around and an alarming amount of blood that's only half-crusted over. If Reiju hadn't told his brothers to chill the fuck out--
Ha. Where does he even start with this mess?
A sigh. And then a hand wipes down the front of his face before Sanji settles on clean-up first. Being gentle is just not in his DNA, so Peter's gonna have to deal with a firmer touch as the blood is moped up until his torso isn't drowning in its own bodily fluids.
It's a little simpler after that. Sanji can at least pinpoint the worst bruises now that he's working with a "clean" slate here. He dresses the worst of the wounds, tries not to burn through Peter's entire stock of supplies, and by the time he's finished, well--
Now Spider-Man's a patchwork of bandages. Progress]
Legs next.
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[He's surprisingly patient while Sanji treats what he can — his one good eye follows Sanji's face, watching with some quiet, subdued thought as the man works. Every so often there's a press against something broken or aching and a soft grunt of pain tries to flee through his lips.
Legs next. He nods, a bit more serious.]
Go ahead. You got this.
[Is he trying to be supportive while being the one treated?
... Yeah. Yes. Is that really a surprise?]
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[Ha. Haha. He's had plenty of practice on himself, thank you, and shoots Peter a tired scowl in response to the peptalk. Believe him, if there was something he could shove into Peter's mouth to make him shut up...
Getting the bottom part of the suit off of Peter isn't too much of a struggle, especially seeing as he just wants easy assess to the thighs... and there's a wisecrack he could make if he were in a better mood, but...
It's looking at the knife wound that sours what little patience he has, for both Peter and himself. Blood on his hands, he still wrestles some of his bangs out of the way in a moment of frustration, not giving a damn if it smears on his forehead. His stomach is too busy curling in knots.]
... I'll treat this and then we're done here.
[Spoken with a flat air of finality.]
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Wait —
You're... Uh...
[He pauses, his one clear eye glancing aside. Anxious. His own stomach is in knots, for his own reasons, reasons Sanji might object to. But he couldn't help but feel how he feels, is how he is, okay? And the one thing he wants right now is for Sanji to not run off. If he leaves, is Peter even gonna see him again outside of the mask? Hell, is he gonna get himself killed? Hurt?
His voice is strained and weak. Happens when you've lost a lotta blood.]
You're not — gonna leave, are you?
[His fingers squeeze, shakily. To be honest, consciousness is not doing him very many favors right about now.]
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He should've known damn well Peter wasn't going to make this easy. Sanji can't even say he's surprised when he feels a feeble hand curl over his wrist, and for a brief moment, his expression freezes with dismay, a hurt that threatens to overtake him...
Before a grin blossoms over it, sharp as a knife's edge.]
You... are so full of shit.
[Yanking his hand back, rubbing at the wrist while still wearing that bright, cold smile]
What, you want me to grovel? Fine, I'll hand it to ya -- had me completely fooled. Didn't even realize my ass was getting played the one and only Spider-Man.
[A shrug. His tone is flippant as he starts digging for a bandage small enough to cover Peter's leg wound]
All that bullcrap about us being friends so I'd lower my guard... I mean, it's some cliché shit, but it worked, yeah? So I can't even be pissed off about it.
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"Turn? Turn...? I worshipped you."
He stares for a long moment, startled, confused, indignant, hand dropping like a stone at his side. Maybe it's him being so beaten down, clinging to consciousness by a slim margin, but — he just looks hurt, speaks so honestly that it feels a tremor and a crack in his words:]
You think... I fell in love with you to lower your guard?
[And he lays there as a tear drips down into the shell of his ear, looking beaten down, his fingers trembling from something more than physical. Part of him just waits for Sanji to leave. It wouldn't be the first time someone's left him behind — and he'd be lying if he said the voice in his head wasn't saying he completely deserved it.]
1/2
That was always a rule Sanji had struggled to follow, ever since Peter extended a hand of friendship and near bullied Sanji into reciprocating; Sanji could berate Peter, smack him in the head when he was being stupid, but he'd never go as far as to hurt him, physical or otherwise. He always figured Peter... deserved better.
Staring at the man pushed to tears, Sanji almost laughs at his own gall, thinking he was ever going to keep that promise. He's as stupid as his siblings call him.
-- But it's that one damned word in particular that snaps the last reins on his temper, and the smile evaporates from his face]
You fuckin knew, Peter! What the hell did you think was gonna happen?!
[That they were gonna get a happy ending? That he was somehow gonna save Sanji from his stupid life of crime? The only reason he doesn't lunge is Peter's too injured to fight back, but his destroyed expression of grief and fury does the talking for him]
"Sandy" never existed, alright?! That was me on holiday, trying to get away from my shitty family for a while!
[Digging a hand into his hair while he shuts his eyes, pissed off that he can feel a wet heat starting to gather at the corners]
I was always gonna have to leave! Either when you won and locked us up, or my dad got tired of my shit and killed me off!
[He doesn't have the luxury to believe in grace or second chances. He's no Spider-Man. He's only survive this long off of spite and the few people kind enough to take notice...
before they all died trying to protect him.]
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Feeling wetness on his cheeks, Sanji curls and takes refuge in his knees, his face buried against them. Even once he dares to speak again, his voice is muffled]
You can't save me, Pete.
[No anger this time. Just exhaustion and a resigned sorrow]
I'm not about to let your dumb ass get hurt for my sake. My old man's gonna raze half the city trying to find us, so...
[...]
I'll patch you up. Give you some time to sleep this off. Then I... I'll distract them long enough for you to do whatever you gotta.
[He never deserved Peter, Sanji coaches himself through his tears. This is for the best.]
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He'd never. People can change. People can be good. Peter'll always try to think so.
Forget what you're feeling right now, you big baby, he thinks. ... Focus on what's important right now.
A long pause follows, while Sanji sits with his face buried. Then there's a shifting, an unheard biting of one's lip until they taste blood — just before arms find their way around Sanji. Peter crouches next to him, body aching with the stress of being forced to its knees — knees that are screaming that him that he's an idiot, a moron, a total dunce. But he pulls Sanji close, fingers curling into the fabric of Sanji's shirt. His vision dances like a teetering mirage, but he focuses on the blond of Sanji's bowed head.]
I don't have to save you. You can do that yourself.
[He rasps, voice lighter:]
You saved Spider-Man.
That makes you the best of 'em, right?
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CRIES I THOUGHT I HAD REPLIED ALREADY
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kicks down door 100 years later