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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Hey, it's for the greater good; those'll kill...

[... Oh.

If there's ever a way to make Peter's expression fade into grim concern — that'd do it. He drops down to a knee, looking at Sanji's face with an alarm that radiates in the lines of his brow and the hazel in his eyes. His voice is low and serious.]

Jesus, Sandy. What happened to you?

[On the bright side, he's not so annoying that he'd reach out for the guy's face; that's a little too personal, and he knows how it feels to be on the other end of that after a miserable fight. But god does he want to check it closer, and he is apparently bold enough to be near the guy after he could have set the building on fire with his body.

That looks bad.]

How'd-?

... Stop making that face, bastard. [A small scowl before he pulls the hoodie right back over his head (and then takes it off quick because ew it's cold and wet)] It'll heal quick.

[He's a good healer, this one. Kinda like you, Peter. Not that Sanji is aware of this, otherwise they'd have a few things to talk about, wouldn't they?]

The "how" isn't important. I just need to keep a lid on this shit until it's gone. [Being tightlipped as always, good luck getting any details out of him. He fiddles with some strands of hair to hide the worst of the burns before giving another shiver, curling up on himself more]

... I trust you can keep your mouth shut?

[Ha. Trust. It's a joke because he doesn't trust anyone, obviously.]

[Spoilers, Sanji: He's still making the doe-eyed face.]

I'm definitely vetoing that it isn't important. It someone's doing this to you, you should look out for yourself and look for help... But —

Alright. I'll keep my mouth shut. For once.

[He's not gonna pretend he has any real say over it, because they're not exactly besties like he and Harry. But he's still — something. Not a friend, maybe, but... uh. A co-worker? He thinks? He's not really sure where to categorize a villain who isn't acting villainous. Not that Sanji was always very good at it to begin with...]

Can I at least go grab some burn gel for it? And, uh. Maybe I can grab some... clothes... We can hang these out to dry up here, or whatever, while you tell me how much I suck at gardening.

I tell him not to make that face and then he just keeps doing it...

[How has Peter survived this long with that hemorrhaging heart of his? Oh, right, probably because of his GODDAMN SIX PACK, Sanji is never going to let it go--]

Fine, get whatever. Just get out of my hair for a bit. [You know cats who hiss and spit but don't actually bite and in fact refuse to move from their space on the couch because they know they can just boss you around? Yeah... yeah. Peter gets a mugger's glare for his troubles.]

... And what did those plants ever do to you...?

Ouch, man. Ouch.

[He smiles a little more, before rushing off to go to his thing — and of course, that includes pit-stopping and explaining to Gloria that Sandy's just having a hard time, and it's not something he can go into; they all know around FEAST what it's like, to be having a rough patch that goes unspoken. So knowing that, they can move on with things as usual. Suffice to say, by the time he's back, he's got band-aids around his two burnt digits and a kit snuck in under a few layers of folded clothing.

Triumphantly appearing in the middle of the soggy rooftop, he announces boldly:]

Alright — strip down!

[And then he tosses the man a towel.]

...

I'm burning this later.

[He announces, casually, while towel drying his hair first to soak up the water still trying to drip down his neck and face. Sanji has never professed to like Peter, exactly, but never has he judged the other man so scathingly as he does now.

What a nerd.]

Also, no, you're gonna give me my clothes and then fuck off to the other side of the roof while I get dressed.

[Wowza, is Sanji shy? ... Or is he just an asshole?]

Ooooh, a shy one. Alright, I see how it is.

[He tosses Sanji his pile, in that case, and turns away himself.

So he can start dragging his own clothes off.

No problemo.]

[HE WILL FUCKIN PUSH YOU OFF THIS BUILDING, PETER]

[Ugh, whatever, so long as the bastard isn't looking. There is an uncomfortable pause in which he notices that Peter is just stripping down only a few paces away, instead of the other side of the building as Sanji had requested, but seeing as he can't figure out a way to phrase his discontent without sounding like a blushing virgin --

... Whelp. Peter's fault if he looks.

Because there are burns covering Sanji's entire body. Torso, arms, legs, everywhere. Just as bad as the one on his face, but strangely enough, many of them seem to be in the middle of healing. The worst one -- a burn cut across his back like a wound -- earns a wince as he yanks off his hoodie and T-shirt, then quickly shoves on whatever offering Peter had gotten.

The two of them are about the same in height and body type, at least. That'll make maneuvering less awkward. Once he's got on some pants and feels a lot more presentable, the blond heaves a sigh of relief and glances over his shoulder]

You finished over there, Thor?

[You're lucky he doesn't see those, Sanji. Otherwise he'd be asking you to take all your clothes back off so he can properly salve them. And also bitch at you and worry and — well, it'd be just a mess. Of course, Peter still has his own gauze taped over the wound he got from before; it's pretty healed, but he's not about to show that to Sanji and reveal something odd about himself, huh?

Also... Sorry about the nerdy math shirt he let you borrow, by the way. You should have seen it coming.]

Yeah, I'm good!

[Why is his outfit just normal flannel and not a dorky math shirt? Luck of the draw, curly-brow. He's re-approaching again, motioning for him to take a seat as he squirts some of the burn gel on a gauze pad.]

Lemme get some of this on that burn. I know a thing or two about first aid.

Comes with working here; I've treated a few too many people, y'know?

[Spoilers: Sanji is burning this shirt, too, hopefully Peter wasn't attached to it. B|]

That right, huh.

[He sounds only vaguely interested in Peter's first aid skills, though rather than let the thread of conversation die, Sanji instead folds his arms and sits down as instructed, humming in his throat]

You normally get beat-up hobos at the door?

[Gosh, Sanji, live a little.

He chuckles low in his throat as he begins to carefully administer the gel; he's a particularly light touch, thanks to his hyper-awareness, and is the polar opposite of a butterfingers. Thank you, weird-sticky-hands.]

Sometimes. I've been stabbed once, but that was sort of my own fault for ignoring, uh — common sense. [Or spider-sense. But if he hadn't stayed in the guy's way, he would have stabbed one of the workers next to him, and that would've tore Peter up for a while. Worse, if that person had died. He blows out a little breath, puffing his cheeks.] When you're out on the streets, you deal with some of the best of humanity — but also some of the worst. Some stumble in after getting beat by teenagers. Some get into brawls over turf. Some... fight themselves, uh, if you know what I mean.

It's important I know how to help each one, either way. So I took a few courses, stocked up on kits for FEAST, had some volunteers learn how to administer basic stuff. People need to feel like they're in good hands.

[He pushes back some of Sanji's bangs to focus on a spot further back on his temple.]

It's what May would've wanted.

[Belatedly, Sanji realizes he should have put on the gel himself, and that makes subjecting himself to Peter's ministrations a lesson in discomfort. There's a perpetual scrunch to his brow whenever the other leans into his space, or touches his face, or does... anything, really.

Though for whatever reason, his agitation isn't enough to propel him away. Peter pushes at his bangs and the man only frowns before his expression smooths back into a stony quality]

Tch. Knew you were a boy scout.

[... Mm. But that name. Glancing to the side, gaze avoiding Peter's. After a beat of quiet:]

Your aunt, right?

[Peter smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

Yeah. I'm sure by now you got some kind of — um. Secret meeting with someone in FEAST, to tread carefully, but it's alright.

She raised me since I was six, so... more like a mom, I guess.

[Done with his handiwork, he begins re-packing the kit.]

After she passed away a few months ago during the Devil's Breath epidemic... I took over this garden. [He motions to it, sighing, shoulders dipping.] But I've been doing a pretty bad job at keeping it going. Because anything food-related ends disastrously for me. But I'm trying, y'know?

[Ah, the Devil's Breath epidemic. An incident Sanji had only caught the tail-end of. Even with a small chunk of New York under their command, the Vinsmokes hadn't dared start a mafia war with Kingpin, so it was only after the latter had been arrested that his family had truly moved in.

By that point, the epidemic had made its mark on the city and then just as quickly blown over... for the best, to be honest. Sanji can only imagine what kind of interest his father would have taken in such a powerful drug.]

Yeah, Gloria told me to keep my mouth shut. [Lost in his thoughts, his response is a distant mutter. He reaches up and drags a finger through the gel on his cheek] Told me you suck at gardening, too.

[Eh, perhaps not said that harshly, but--]

You're probably overwatering them. Plants are really damn resilient normally, so loving 'em too much kills the whole shitty bunch. Gotta treat them like fussy teenagers. [Making a vague hang gesture at Peter]

Cut off the dead leaves, water 'em once, then leave them alone for a couple of days at least. If they're not perking up, you might have a pest problem instead.

[He looks more than a little interested in the advice being given; if he had a notepad and pen, he'd probably be writing it all down excitedly, even. As it is, he's applying it to basic memory with a humored little smile.]

Right. Fussy teenagers.

[He almost seemed to flick his gaze right at Sanji, when he says it.

But nah, couldn't have been.

After a moment, clearing his throat, he holds out a folded piece of paper.]

Anyway, um. I was actually going to give this to you — I figure since... May was going to come up, I grabbed this on the way. [Unraveling it will show a recipe, written in nice, girlish handwriting.] This is her recipe for wheatcakes. Kind of her specialty; she used to make them for FEAST all the time, and I knew you'd be the one who could make them as good as she did.

Then... between this and keeping the garden alive, it'll feel less like she's gone.

... I mean, if you want to — you don't have to, I just thought. You know.

[So long as Peter heeds his advice, Sanji is willing to let that look slide (don’t think he didn’t see it, bastard). And trust him, he’ll be on the lookout for improvement. It’s not that he has a soft spot for plants so much as he sees no reason why Peter can’t improve.

He wants to do this for his aunt; might as well give him the tools to avoid a fuck up.

The recipe receives a measured stare long before Sanji reaches out to take it, and even then, the glance down the list of ingredients is more somber than usual. It’s the kind of look that acts as a precursor to a “no” in most cases (or perhaps just Sanji’s), but after an eventual sigh]

They won’t taste exactly like hers.

[rolling the recipe back up and pocketing it]

Bet even if I follow this shit to a T, you’ll notice a difference.

[Chefs put a little bit of themselves into every creation. And last time he checked, he’s not a dead woman. He steadies a look at Peter then, silently asking if that’s what he wants. Just because his wheat cakes will taste good doesn’t mean no one is gonna be disappointed in the end. ]

[Peter shakes his head, grinning at the roof's floor.]

As long as it doesn't taste worse, I know she'd be happy knowing someone was still making them.

[Because he would not hesitate to try and make her happy, even if she wasn't in this world anymore. Either way, he's relieved that Sanji's thinking of doing this. It's for May, but... also, it's a way to hopefully remind him he's welcomed. It's not like they don't all have crap days. And maybe, uh. Maybe he's taken on the cause of converting Sanji from mafia villain to FEAST hero. Or something.

He's always been a bleeding heart.

It's how Felicia always gets the jump on him, after all.

There is good in Sanji. It's just under some strong defenses.

He nudges him with a shoulder and looks too pleased.]

You're a hell of a bristly guy, but you're not so bad.

Stop.

[Bristling right the fuck up the moment Peter starts getting playful.]

Don't get the wrong idea; this is me doing you a favor, bastard, so we're even.

[Does he really think Peter requires a bribe to keep his mouth shut? No, not a boyscout like this. But it's the principle of it. Any mafia family not willing to back up their promises quickly die, that's the law of the land. It's why most of them don't promise shit.

It's why Sanji hates being in someone's debt.

... Well, that's what he gets for sharing a weakness, he supposes. And considering all the questions Peter could have demanded, this is as good a scenario as he's going to get. Mood already softened back into place, Sanji ruffles more water out of his hair and gingerly moves to stand. He feels so soggy...]

I still don't like you.

Oh, same here, I can't stand you.

[He doesn't... sound like he remotely means that, as he gets up to his feet. From there, as they go back to their prospective jobs... Things get, uh, really normal and quiet again? He again leaves Sanji to his devices. Mostly. There are definitely times where he tries to sneak a peak at him and make sure he's not hurt or anything like that — sometimes with mixed results, but he's at least not forcing Sanji into any confessionals around here. But, um. Things are great. Things are moving along, and his skirmishes with Sanji as Spider-Man? Well, none of them are ending in horrific injuries or anything.

It's about as good a situation as can be expected, with a mafia boss' son showing up to work for you day in and day out. He sees it as a sort of begrudging... friendship... thing? He thinks. He has no clue that Gloria is sneaking around his back to 'Alessandro' — that she's snooping about just what had happened on that rooftop, or just why they seem to keep looking at each other, or why she swears Sandy's wearing Peter's dumb shirt... If she suspects something, though, Peter has certainly not caught on.

Instead he just stares at the chef from one of the cafeteria tables, hand on his cheek, spacing out a little as he watches him work (and expertly evades his gaze, just in the nick of time). It's been nice. It's been really, really nice, to see someone he fights on a weekly basis doing so many good things. After what had happened with Mr. Li... Doctor Octavius... It's just... all good.

Maybe I can save this one, he thinks — before feeling a little awkward.

He's out front, handling more boxes of charity goods, when good things go a little bad.]

[There's a big boom outside, one so strong, it shakes the whole building. People outside are scrambling, panicked, and Marcos is rushing around the steps of FEAST yelling for Peter — because he'd been right there, and now there is debris from a huge crashed big rig that had been barreling down the street, hitting everything in its path before practically obliterating the charity truck. "Pete?! Pete, where are—?!"

He coughs as fire licks at the wreckage of the rig; Peter Parker's no where in sight. But there is a bald man — marked with scars from past gigs — standing atop the crushed pile of metal with a sort of metal contraption bound around him. He flicks his arms — and chains whip at the air sharply. Who is it? Well, he's a new face. Civilians run screaming, and with lifeless, almost robotic eyes, the figure steps off the wreckage and starts descending on what crowd lingers.

"His will is mine."

Marcos puts his fists up, ready to rush this impossibly muscular guy with his whips that are clearly strong enough to smash skulls and break bones — and that's exactly what would have happened to his stupidly brazen self, if not for Spider-Man flying into the scene to kick the villain off the steps of FEAST and back into a smokey self-made arena.]

You've got some nerve, ruining a perfectly good morning for these people!

What crawled up your ass and died, huh?!

[... Peter's a little pissed off. The quips aren't quite without venom, as he jumps out of the way of long, flashing chains and kicks the guy hard in the chest; he doesn't quite notice the haunted, possessed look he's got yet, but he's working on it, honest. The guy nearly ran him into the asphalt, hurt a bunch of people making their way on the street, ruined the supplies for FEAST — he's not quite so ready to think maybe, just maybe, this is a puppet.]

[Sanji really wishes Gloria had more incentive to bother Peter with her questions, frankly. He's not sure if it's because he's lowly kitchen staff or because everyone's so determined to leave Peter be, but the woman rides his ass about every little thing, from their disappearance on the roof to the number of times she catches Sanji glancing at Peter sitting in the cafeteria with that stupid look in his eye.

The amusement from the shelter is damn near palatable, and probably why Sanji's twice as quick to bite Peter's head off for assumed grievances. He and Peter have an understanding, nothing else. The guy's made good on his promises so far -- not even mentioning the burns on Sanji's face when they had healed a little too quickly. The least Sanji can do is keep his end of the bargain, then, sneaking afternoons to work on his version of May's wheat cakes (and, perhaps, occasionally ask Peter for his input. Y'know. If he's not too busy being a good samaritan to everyone else).

So maybe if all of y'all could stop making assumptions. There is nothing to see here, thanks, shitheads--

Holy shit, when the building shakes, though. His ear drums ring in time with the pot of chicken stock nearly shimmying itself straight off the stove top, and Sanji hears Gloria curse behind him as she tries to avoid getting smacked by hanging pans.]

Oi, take cover! I'm checking outside. [Giving her no time to order that he stay his ass put, Sanji darts out the doorway and through the cafeteria, to the front door, to the --

To the mess of screaming people and debris outside, what the hell. Is that a big rig just plowed on their steps? And of course Macros is wigging out about something, double timing it to Sanji's side after Bug Man kicks someone into the smoking pile.

"Sandy! I can't find Pete!"]

-- What. [Feeling his heart rate flare as he looks to the big rig with a grimmer, paled expression. No, that stupid idiot cannot be--]

Get back inside, I'm looking for him. [Not bothering to check if Marcos is gonna listen, Sanji heads straight toward the thick of the battle -- it's the best way to get to the fallen big rig and check, no matter that it's smoldering and maybe a few minutes from catching into a proper fire.]

[Marcos listens, albeit hesitantly — and not without helping a few other startled people inside the building. Searching for Peter has left little to be found; there are boxes of charitable goods strewn everywhere, the frame of the truck they came in twisted and mauled into an ugly shape in the middle of the wreckage; the driver had been fortunate, rushing away at the sight of the rig in his rear-view.

As Sanji searches, Spider-Man leaps, avoiding those whips that are strong enough to leave indentions in the asphalt. One hand grabs the tail end of the chain, and he yanks hard, trying to keep it taut and unusable.]

C'mon, I'm really - not into this - kind of thing...!

[Whoop, baldy snaps the chainwhip, and Spider-Man goes flying into the sky.

How're you doing down there, Sanji?

Er. Alessandro, sorry.]

[Oh, y'know how it is -- pissed the fuck off and growing more and more agitated when his search comes up short. Peter being surprisingly fit will not have saved him from a wreckage, Sanji knows that, and the knot that sits in his stomach breaks him into a cold sweat.

Shit, he can't even kick the trucks over to check underneath, can he? Everyone's got their eyes on the arachnid enthusiast, but all it takes is one stray hobo sniffing around the area...]

-- Oi, bastard!

[Snarling at the bald man, not a hint of fear in his face or voice.]

Take it elsewhere or I'll escort you to hell myself!

[Sanji: the master of making friends.]

[Spider-Man lands on the side of a building rather gracefully (see: without face-planting) and looks down to Sanji with slightly widened lenses. Like. In theory, he kind of knew the guy was gonna nose his way into this, but... No, no buts. If he could get back-up here...? That would be sweet. No, no, Sanji's trying to keep a low profile...! This is messy. This is gonna be super messy.]

Uh—! What're—

What're you doing here?! [The whip snaps again, and he leaps from the wall just as it hits, smashing some of the red brick beneath.] Okay, not important; look at his eyes! He's barely on this planet!

[And it's pretty true. Looking into baldy's eyes seems to imply, well. That he's drugged, or under some kind of influence. He sways as he walks: aiming to hurt and maim the hero in his path, sure, but also entirely slack-faced as he goes. He says, again, "His will his mine...!" before snapping his weapon in Sanji's direction next.]

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