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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[Sanji's not a man who makes many promises -- it's why he keeps to the ones he does have. Peter leaving him be as per their agreement gives the man ample chances to prove his worth, both in the kitchen and as the newest hire of FEAST. He doesn't speak much to anyone, barely tries his hand at being friendly, and has been told off twice for how much he cusses...

But damn, his food.

His food.

One day in and Gloria just hands him the reins, no questions asked. By Friday, the joke is that FEAST is living up to its name. Just look at the lot of them, eating better than the big wigs, practically kings and queens with the way Alessandro feeds them. And when a little girl with pigtails murders his name with unintended prejudice, trying to thank him for making her favorite kind of chocolate cake, someone pipes up that they should just call him "Sandy" already; ain't none of them Italian enough to pronounce his name otherwise.

So congrats, "Sandy", guess you're not so much of an asshole that people dislike you.

And he... relaxes after that. Grins a bit more. Allows one or two of the kids to get away with teasing his eyebrow. Still a little closed off, and good luck getting a straight answer from him about anything personal, but he takes up his place as the favored kitchen staff without complaint. Whatever you want, he'll make -- just don't go tattling to Gloria because he's double dipping into supplies.

His schedule is a bit of a mystery. He shows up when Gloria needs him, first off, though outside of that set-in-stone timeline, Sanji appears at odd hours, only to leave just as quickly. Makes him even harder to pin down.

... Midnight isn't out of the realm of possibility, though.

Hope Peter doesn't jump out of his skin when he turns and finds Sanji ... there. Leaning against the doorway frame, with his brows shot up into his messy hair, looking vaguely perplexed by what he's seeing. He twirls a spatula through his fingers]

Shithead, I thought you were a burglar.

Edited 2019-01-07 23:41 (UTC)

[Peter totally regrets putting a modicum of trust in Sanji, in this very moment, because it means he's... much easier to sneak up on. He curses internally, flopping backward into the desk chair and looking like a crazy person in the dark, with his murky features. But it was the first thing that came to mind, the fastest he could try to mask the bloody gash under his hand.]

San—

Sandy, uh. What're you... doing here? It's midnight.

Should I put a request in for a new watch for you, man?

[Sounding a little breathless there, bud.

(Boy this almost sounds like Sanji caught him jerking it, that's embarrassing, huh.)

... But then there's the scent of blood, hovering bleakly in the air.

So not such a great cover.]

Cooking.

[Why the fuck else would he have a spatula in his hand? Sanji almost sounds insulted by the question.

... he should also probably backtrack quick because uh, yeah, sounds like he found Peter in a compromising situation, and heck no they're not close enough to swap jerk off stories. (Do people even do that? Shit, Sanji doesn't know, he doesn't do friendships, this is gross, someone save him)

-- Until he catches that scent of blood. That's more than familiar territory, and the reason Sanji flips the switch to the room, mouth narrowed in disapproval]

Are you kidding me? Did you get your ass beat aga--

[... Lord have mercy

dem abs

listen Sanji doesn't really swing any which way, thank his crippling depression and inability to connect with other people, but the shock at seeing Peter fuckin Parker sporting himself a six-pack took years off of his life.

He holds his hands up like Peter might shoot him with those guns alone]

Uh.

Should've knocked.

[The battered and bruised 23-year-old scooches closer to the desk defensively, hiding more of his particularly startling abs — and of course the source of the blood-smell along with it. Hopefully he'll have no reason to lift his hands over the desk at any point, because he definitely hasn't had a chance to clean them off.

... Again, this could not sound more Freudian if I tried.]

You definitely should have! Shame on you.

[Very convincing, isn't he? He sighs.]

I'm just a little roughed up. But I'm good. I can handle it.

You should get back to whatever weird... night-cooking you're doing.

-- You are so full of shit, asking me what gym I go to.

[A SLIGHT HE WILL NEVER FORGET, PETER PARKER.

Also once the shock wears off and his schools his expression back into its usual judgmental neutrality, he hooks his foot around the door and pulls it shut... so no, he's not leaving.

... Pretty sure this could count as the start of a porno.]

Roughed up how? That ain't from a wooden bat this time.

[Placing the spatula on a nearby table, he approaches, irritable]

Get over here.

[... Well, this is getting more and more complicated.

He laughs awkwardly, fully caught in that dumb comment (yeah, okay, he did ask him what gym he went to, didn't he?) and tries to think of... some logical way to get out of this. Because as much as Sanji was growing on him, he also wasn't exactly eager to have the guy help him like this. Especially when he's sometimes the reason Peter is injured to begin with.

Not that he hates their little game outside of FEAST. He tolerates it with jovial enthusiasm, the kind he reserves for foes who have some wisp of a good intent. Like Felica, or Herman. Ugh. Don't let this guy get under your skin, Pete. And yet he relents, standing up and moving toward the other side of the room, where the couch is that he sleeps on; on the table next to it, a framed image of Peter and the woman they called May sits, clean and well-kept.

He has one of his hands around the handle of a first aid kit he'd retrieved from somewhere around the desk, trudging along with it in a way that implies his whole body hurts. He might as well be an old man right now, with creaky bones and hex to put on the guy he sent to the Raft (maximum containment, thank god).]

Just the wrong time, wrong place. Wrong people.

A mugging, huh...

[Sanji hums out his assumption as he watches Peter move, knowing damn well it could be a million different things. Still, petty crime like that is a dime a dozen in this city. It's the most logical conclusion.

-- Or it would be if Peter wasn't fuckin ripped. Muscle alone isn't gonna save you from getting your ribs cracked in, but it helps. It helps a lot.]

You owe people money?

[He's careful to wrap that question up in nonchalance, an indicator that it doesn't matter what answer Peter gives him. Rather than follow him to the couch, the man stands a few paces into the room, hands in his pockets and glancing about the room. It's his first time here, after all.]

[The room is — mostly empty, but there are... photos around.

In fact, every surface space seems to have enough room for a framed picture. One of him and his friends, Harry and MJ. One of his uncle Ben and him when he's just five or six, as he helps nail a board. There's some of May and him in FEAST, taking photos together... And the back wall has a corkboard covered in old children's drawings (PETER PARKER: AGE 8), as well as pictures of a pretty but unfamiliar couple smiling from in front of a lake.

And many more there, of Peter through the years. Seventh birthday, him on the first day of fifth grade (a major dork in his glasses, too), and college graduation. The rest of the place seems devoted to filing papers away that he's overseeing, as well as a busted up laptop and a savings jar.

... That is completely empty.

The only other signs of living here is a duffel bag, messy clothes leaking out the top. Sanji might've heard utterings about Peter's technical homelessness, maybe. If he was keeping an ear out. But if he didn't then, it's more obvious now: it's clear he lives out of that duffel more than anything, not truly settled in FEAST, and he just sleeps on the couch as is.

The same couch he's sitting tenderly on, hand curled around his side as he starts popping the first aid kit open with a grimace. What should he say? Something cautious. It'd make sense to be cautious, anyway.]

... I'm not exactly rolling in it.

So — maybe.

Hn. I can see that.

[Can't pass up the opportunity to be an asshole, can he? Or maybe that's just the way Sanji talks about everything -- cruelly dispassionate, like he exists on one side of the mirror, where emotion isn't welcome unless it's a reason to be angry.

... But he heard what happened to the woman called May. Through the grapevine. Usually subtle pleas that "Sandy" be careful to not bring her up without reason to Peter. Stupid shit he wasn't going to ask about anyway, so he doesn't know why they bothered telling him in the first place.

This room tells him enough of the truth. Eyes closed, Sanji turns his gaze away from all of the photographs.]

You need a better way to protect yourself, kid.

[Peter sighs through his nose, wiping blood away with gauze pads before he starts in on the suture kit; it's an awkward angle, but it'll heal a hell of a lot faster on him if he makes sure the wound's sealed up like anyone else. It should only take a few days to go away — the perks of spider powers, and if Sanji dare study the man in his underwear, he'd note that, other than typical little moles, the guy is completely scar free. Smooth as a baby's butt, yep.

Him and his 1, 2, 3 whole chest hairs.]

I can handle it all just fine, promise. You can get back to your work.

Just... If you can, don't tell Gloria or Miriam? I know they worry enough as it is.

[He starts setting up the suture kit, wincing.

His shoulder hurts like hell. Landed funny on it.

Can't villains and criminals relax for just one week? Just one!]

[Eh. Shock's worn off. Sanji's stare is now blatant and observant, noting how scarless this asshole is. The relative strangeness of it doesn't escape him, either; everyone's got scars, and he was so certain that Do-Gooder Peter would be riddled with them on his constant crusade to be helpful.

... Sanji's not used to being wrong, either, so the detail sticks in his head like an irritating riddle. Even when the guy isn't trying, Peter just pisses him off.]

It ain't my business. [Meaning he's not saying shit so long as no one grills him. He gives a shrug, stuffs his hands back into his pockets]

How much money do you owe?

[Pretty nosy guy for someone who just declared this ain't his business]

[Record-skipping sound, hello; it's been a while, old friend!

He stares for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open—]

10... [Okay, that seems like a good start! Oh god, Pete, what are you getting yourself into? He clears his throat and sighs, looking back down to his wound; thanks to his hyper-healing, the blood has at least coagulated. Awesome. Now to just go full-on knitting granny mode and close it up.] ... 10 grand. But like I said — I can handle it.

[He wrinkles his nose at Sanji, suspicion showing.]

Why're you asking?

[... squinting at Peter, looking partially flummoxed.]

Oh.

[That’s it, huh... and here Sanji had assumed it was a real emergency, not chump change. Must be some small time crooks bothering him, Sanji guesses. No one under his family name, either. The Vinsmokes pay too well for their services and have an image to maintain.

He’s still working through a list of the typical suspects when Peter asks his question, to which Sanji responds with his usual shrug of nonchalance. And much like a cat who no longer cares for attention, the man starts for the door.] Was curious.

[grabbing his spatula, walking out the door. Bye, Sandy, I guess B|]

[... Well, he's not surprised. But he's also a little worried now, because the very last thing he wanted was to draw attention by Sanji of all people. He'll just have to completely vanish from FEAST when he's hurt — can't afford to bring it back here, where connections can be made. Once he's properly stitched himself up, he drags on a t-shirt and sweatpants and lays down with a wince on the couch.

Though he's thrown his arm over his eyes, he's not sure he'll be able to get to sleep; too busy worrying what may or may not come of this little unwanted meeting. Did he give anything away? Did he create a seed of doubt? What's Sanji's game?

Ugh. Maybe he shouldn't be living here. It's not like he can't find a roof to sleep on.

A groan leaves him, and he checks his phone.

MJ had sent one text —

'Still waiting for the next flight. Airports are a nightmare. U ok?'

'Oh I'm good. Same ol same ol.'

'Sometimes same ol = bad, considering what your 'same' usually is. :/
Just take care of urself, Tiger.'

'scout's honor, I'll be good.'

God, he misses her sometimes. Even more now that she's reporting in another country. With a little smile, he sends a handful of embarrassing emoticons and drops his head back again — and then he feels the faintest tingle of his spider senses: Someone approaching the office. Who now...?]

[Relax, Pete, it's no one who plans on staying long.

He's going to hear a knock on the door -- two knuckles rapping sharply on wood, and then the sound of something solid being placed on the floor. Then, footsteps clicking away from the door.

It's up to Peter if he feels like catching the perpetrator, but when he opens the door, there will be a tray in his way, with a bowl of... soup of all things. A hearty combination of butternut squash and thick spices, freshly made. But wait, there's another plate, too, this time with a "simple" sandwich on top a couple of napkins, and finally a glass of water (because fuck you, no special treatment, alright?).

Honestly it's best not to ask questions. The answers probably wouldn't make any sense.]

[Well... shucks. He takes his time to get to the door, but it doesn't take much of a scientist to see who had left it behind — and even though he's dizzied from injury and exhausted, his stomach (with it's unfathomable, bottomless metabolism) gurgles and growls at the sight of the food. He picks it up with care, looking down the hallway with a little smile.

'... Boy, I sure hope this isn't poisoned.'

But guess who has two thumbs and eats it, practically licking the bowl?

This guy.

And then he promptly passes out on the couch, pale and jittery from the night — but full and sleepy and feeling a little better (paranoia about Sanji Vinsmoke be damned). It's much better than staring at the walls like he does some nights, tossing and turning and wondering what to do with himself.

... Now he just mumbles about butternut squash in his sleep.]

[Down in the kitchen, having already started his clean-up regimen, Sanji heaves a sigh of relief when certain Peter isn't going to follow. Good.

Now to put this in the back of his mind to die.

Which might be why, besides kicking at the office door some time in the morning (hey, it's a cheap and easy alarm system for bastards who might have gotten their ass kicked the night before so they don't get caught by Gloria or Miriam looking like a beat up hobo +_+), Sanji doesn't approach Peter. Doesn't really talk to him, either. Any attempt is going to be met with an almost pitbull growl to back off, Sanji is in no mood to talk, apparently.

Though if Peter behaves and simply comes sniffing around for a meal, then... Sanji supposes he can raise a truce long enough to feed the nerd with a six-pack. Everything from hotdogs to french toast to beef wellington, assuming there are ingredients on standby and Gloria doesn't murder him for showing off.

Well, maybe not murder him, to be fair. That's the power of building up goodwill in a place like this. "Sandy" can act two shakes away from a grumpy cat if he wants, that won't stop the majority of the building from liking him.

Unless, of course... he doesn't show up for work.

Wednesday morning, 7am. Then 8am. Then 9am. The clock ticks on until Gloria has to accept that her star volunteer is gonna be a no-show for the morning. Whelp. They've run FEAST on shorter staff. It's just an annoying hiccup in the scheme of things. She takes over the kitchen, everything falls back into place...

Best believe when Sanji shows up the next day, he and Gloria have a little "chat".

If there's any surprise, it's that Sanji isn't fired on the spot. He takes his punishment gracefully enough, never backtalks, just stands there looking vaguely pale with a slight sway in his step. Eventually Gloria kicks him back on his shift before calling Peter to the side, with a request on hand: keep an eye on him.

Sandy's... acting odd.]

Edited 2019-01-13 23:06 (UTC)

[Oh, yeah. Acting odd, for sure — though Peter at least has an idea of the guy's background, so the moment he's late (which is unusual, to say the least), Peter begins to count off possibilities. And it makes him wonder if he should be suited up as Spider-Man, looking around for the guy. He's... admittedly been way softer on the guy than usual, out on the streets. Or at least has tried to avoid fighting him if he can help it.

Maybe this is a crime thing. When he finally shows up, Peter's studying him very carefully from afar, distracted from his own usual tasks; Miriam pinches his face when he spaces out at one point. Then Gloria nabs him. So he knows this is more serious a situation, as he saddles in to help Sanji with random helper tasks around the kitchen.

Standing next to the guy, he leans in, voice low.]

Uh. Hey. I was worried something happened. Where were you?

[Well... there was no way he'd avoid the gossip. Sanji knew that coming in here looking pale and uneven. The eyes on his back and whispers in his ears have been following him around all morning, and Peter saddling up next to him barely gets a grunt of recognition.

... Good question, though. The strained pause means someone didn't think up an answer]

Nothing you gotta worry about. [He speaks to Peter in a strangely subdued tone, thin and quiet, and with his hoodie having been up since he started his shift, it's difficult to get a gauge on his expression]

Already told Gloria if I'm late again, I won't argue if she fires me.

[He assumes Peter would prefer that; it's the only reason Sanji brings it up in the first place. Give the guy something to look forward to if shit comes to that, y'know? Like he said in the beginning, he won't take it personally.

Distracted by what's in front of him -- a simple broth, good for stretching meals -- Sanji returns his attention to the food, grasping at the handle of a wooden spoon. And that's normal enough, no cause for concern, until the handle begins to... smoke... a few tendrils of gray rising from it like a cigarette.

The spoon is quickly discarded into the sink like it just bit him.]

-- Listen, I... got shit covered in here. Sure Miriam will want you somewhere else.

[... Frowning, he slides a little closer, so that their voices can be between them.]

Hey. You can talk to me. If there's anyone around here who knows what it's like to be in a crappy situation outside these walls... Y'know. [And if he notices the smoke, he's not about to bring attention to it; something's really damn serious here.] Are you — in any danger? Do you need somewhere to crash?

[He knows, obviously, that whatever's happening... it's not so simple.

But he'd rather play it more like Peter Parker.

Not Spider-Man-That-Knows-Sanji's-Background-A-Little.

Besides...

Maybe Sanji's good side rubbed off on him enough to make him genuinely worry.]

[... Should've known better than to give Peter that food.

He fuckin swears, you do one good deed in this world and everyone thinks you're their best friend. He hates it. Reminds him too much of one smoking bastard with a crooked smile and jetblack hair, whose dead in the ground now because he couldn't use his common sense when it mattered most.

Idiots. All of them. One of his hands twists itself up in his hair, underneath the hoodie, as a snarl escapes him]

Would you just fuckin back off already?

[The air spikes with that retort, to a temperature Sanji probably couldn't play off even if he wanted to -- and the panic sets in then, he made a mistake coming here, he wanted this too badly.

This always happens.

...]

I-- I need running water. A shower. A hose. Something. [Speaking quickly in a tense, unsteady voice as he abruptly shuts off the oven and takes many steps away from Peter, to keep some distance between them. The temperature has leveled but not lowered.]

Don't ask shitty questions right now. Either help or get out of my way.

[Peter bites his lip for a moment, before reaching out and grabbing a pinch of Sanji's hoodie sleeve — it hurts a little, and he looks with wide eyes at Sanji... but then tugs, urgent, brow furrowed. He feels the heat there, lining his forehead with sweat, and he knows what it means, sure. Of course he does. Peter Parker should probably be scared, because he's just some civilian, right? He can't bring himself to do that, though.

He sucks in a sharp breath, nodding back toward the stairway door beyond the kitchen.

It's a beeline, no one to question them.]

Follow me. Rooftop. I got exactly what you need up there.

[He'll start walking — pacing quickly, taking two stairs at a time. When they finally get to the roof, Sanji can see why he's leading him there: a garden sits up here, of an assortment of different plants that are slightly weathered and wrinkled (Peter will never claim to be a good replacement gardener). He leaves Sanji there for a moment and vanishes around the back of the dying tomatoes—]

[He reappears holding a watering hose.

And then proceeds to blast Sanji with it, full-force.]

[Never has Sanji been grateful for the hoodie hiding most of his face. Peter's just too damn nosy for his own good, and if he got a good look at Sanji, he'd see a healthy amount of concern being reflected back at him. There are consequences to being this bold, kid...

Shit though, does it matter? Peter directs him to the stairs and Sanji follows him as quickly as he's able, nearly stumbling into the walls but making it to the roof all the same. Compared to the kitchen, the heat radiating off his body has more room to spread -- a relief to Sanji, dangerous to the area. He stops short upon seeing those flowers.]

O-oi, no -- we can't, not near shit like--

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rofl that icon, I am dying

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