thwipandquip | you know you're gonna be okay

you know you're gonna be okay — open post

tfln overflows, pic prompts, action spam, have fun. eat questionable burgers. profit.

[ her lips twitch at his remark, but it gives her more pause than she'd like to admit; the comment further serves to remind her what a stark contrast the image of the man in front of her makes to the peter b. parker she's used to seeing, the one who seems to have nominated himself the poster boy for froot of the loom athleisure. any nerves she might have had about their success rate here is easily dashed by the impressive image he makes, smile charming and look sleek. she's glad she took him up on his offer to help. she's glad he offered at all.

the unfortunate news of kingpin's involvement isn't as unexpected as it should have been, her painted lips now pressing into a grim line as she tries to reassess how any of their plans will change with this news. what she isn't expecting is the — gift? token? — the flash of metal that quickly catches her eye and gives her pause again. (he can't keep changing the script on her like this, her next stumble may be disastrous.) ]

...Thanks.

[ it's beautiful, but admittedly her eyes didn't stray on the pendant for very long, too busy searching peter's face in an attempt to make sense of the gesture. is this a usb necklace? a weapon of sorts? make it make sense, she wants to say, but there's no time for this, and the gooseflesh left in the wake of his lingering fingers have her barely suppressing a shudder that would have been far too embarrassing to explain.

now it's her turn to swallow hard. she kind of wants to punch him for throwing her off so close to game time, but instead she slips her hand through his arm and presses close as they cross to the building. she plasters on a demure smile, even if the words she utters under her breath are still dry. ]

Next time I'll give you notice two days in advance. [ next time? ] Maybe I'll get some matching earrings then.

[ (and, no, she didn't miss the compliment. but she's left feeling more confused than victorious, like the word somehow takes on a different meaning when he says it.) ]

Edited 2021-10-12 00:32 (UTC)

Two days might not be enough to properly miniaturize the physical storage or test the compression and decompression rates for a goober — er flash drive — or to procure a suitable pair of cruelty-free diamond studs, but I could probably rig you a few very compact sticky bombs.

[it's confirmation without confirmation that the gift which is currently resting delicately against her skin is in fact the promised usb drive, carefully concealed in what looks to be a trinket. it's not unlike kate herself, outwardly harmless but packing quite the wallop and should make it through whatever security measures that are in place without issue. peter's not looking for appreciation here so much as acknowledgement that he's not just some has-been aging superhero who should hang up his outfit, though the awkward thanks and implied promise that this won't be the only time they cross paths is touching.]

You know, if you'd like some that is.

[there's that boyish grin of his again, making its appearance for the second time this evening, as if he's realized that he's rambling about gadgetry instead of keeping focused on the role that he's meant to be playing. he straightens his back, chiding himself under his breath.

as they finally draw close enough to be within earshot of a few hired goons all sporting very obvious earpieces (amateurs) and some of the most elite of the elite, the smile turns smarmy and his grip falls to her hip. showtime.]

Listen, sweetheart. I'd be happy to complete the set with some more sparkly presents for your wrist and ears, but I'm gonna need you to play nice for a few hours first, okay?

We can discuss all that later. After you've taken care of business.

[ just about everything he says goes completely over her head. kate's never had a mind for all this tech stuff, but she knows even if she did she'd still find peter impressive. certainly far from surpassing his prime but somehow pointing it out now feels inappropriate — and not simply because they're in the middle of a mission. (which is odd in and of itself; since when has kate ever worried about being inappropriate?)

the warm weight of his hand on her hip reminds her they've got a job to do, as well as the fact the fabric of this dress is far thinner than she thought.

right right. on with the show.

there is a very deliberate path her hand takes; lifting up from his dropped arm to delicately trace the outline of her pendant, bringing attention to it now rather than later when she wouldn't want it, then slowly slipping down to follow the dipping cut of her dress, fingertip just shy of caressing the swell of a breast. the gesture draws the attention of the few eyes already drifted towards them, cementing into those minds what she's meant to be here. and the finishing touch? a coy little smile, contrasting the faint purr of her voice. ]

Sorry, boss.

[ it's no daddy but there's a special kind of gift in making "boss" somehow sound even filthier. something about her tone and pitch, the way her lashes lower demurely instead of looking directly up at him. ]

You know I just want to look good for you.

[ sometimes it pays not to be subtle. ]

[no, it's definitely not daddy, nor is it something they expressly discussed, but it works, and is honestly better than his initial proposal for their covers, gives him plenty of legitimate reason to send her off elsewhere — ostensibly to handle his affairs, professional or otherwise, while in actuality giving her the freedom to roam the building and get to that secured server.

point for miss bishop, not that they're keeping score.

he's impressed by it all. it's hard not to be, and peter can't help but think that in another time, in another place that they'd make one hell of an improv duo, building layer upon layer for laughs instead of weaving a carefully crafted tale to commit a crime in the name of doing the right thing in the long run. peter tips her chin up, gazes intently into her eyes, playfully waggles his eyebrows in her direction, and says the first thing that comes to mind.]

I know, and you always do. It's why I hired you.

[the way he licks his lips at the end selling the idea that he's not talking about the dress, jewelry, or any accomplishments listed on her cv. it's important to him that he pulls his own weight. she can't be the only one to sell it, after all. what better way to pull off a convincing lie than to offer it up with a little nugget of truth? a man would have to be blind to think she wasn't attractive, after all. if the casual observer wants to think that he's abusing his position and she's using her body to work her way up, let them.

they make their way inside, no muss no fuss, with peter leading, hand on the small of her back. clear enough away from the door, he leans in to whisper in her ear.]

Alright. Step one. Enter the building. Done. Step two. Mingle. Working on it. Whoever's running this show has really gone heavy on the muscle. We're going to need to split up if we want a better idea of what other measures they're taking.

[then he pulls back and points in the direction of the bar.]

Be a dear and go get us some drinks. None of whatever they're walking around with. There's someone I need to talk to over there.

[a discreet point towards the hallway leading to where they'd stashed their gear the night before]

Then come meet me with my favorite cocktail in fifteen. Looks like they might have a bit of a line so you should hurry and try not to be late. You know how I feel about punctuality.

[ the suit and tie? a good look on him. a great one even, if kate had to be completely honest, adding a layer of class and sophistication to him that (no offense) sometimes becomes a little too easy to forget he has when you're used to him on his day-to-day, slumming in sweats and arguing over whether fruit salad is an actual salad and therefore counts as being part of a diet.

but while the suit slides on easily over him, that smarm and sleaze to accompany his character do not. oh, but he sells it, and he sells it well. but kate knows the man he is beneath that slimy grin, and so there's a dissonance there between what her eyes see and what her heart knows.

(there is harmony, though, in what the flash of that tongue evokes in her, but that is not something she's going to think about right now.) ]

You got it, sir.

[ another demure smile, but this one with a flash of teeth that bite down on her lip that promises of another, different kind of job. are people even still watching? ah well, best to extra diligent right?

splitting up had always been part of the plan; once kate realized she wasn't going to be doing this solo, it became a boon to be able to cover more ground. after all, this is ostensibly a recon mission, and while the ultimate prize are those files tucked away in the computer locked in an office several doors away from the main event, having all these important and shady people congregating in one space is too much of a stroke of luck not to take advantage of. two sets of ears and eyes will be better than just the one. even if one of them is questionable in quality.

blah blah blah old joke blah.

the line at the bar is fortuitous, makes her wandering eyes as she scopes out the rest of the gathering guests seem more like the work if idle boredom than something critical and calculating. bars are always great vantage points at these events; they're where the money is thrown at the most, and so of course they're placed exactly where everyone can see. in turn, anyone who's there can see everyone else, too.

from her spot in line she can make out where peter has waded off to. she can also see a few key players at this event whose faces she's memorized, names less so. off to the far right stands mr. x, and a few feet from him is miss y. across them stand sir moles-a-lot and mr. terrible tattoo. down by the door is bald patch and— Hey beautiful. What brings you here?

futz.

kate purses her lips and suppresses a sigh. one of the downsides to dressing the part for missions like these? the occasional horndog looking to get lucky. ]

Edited 2021-10-13 21:37 (UTC)

[if the party could be likened to a ship, the bar could be seen as command central — the best place to see and hear deals go down, favors exchanged, and relationships go sour. peter's confident that's the best place for kate to be, it's her show, after all where else should she be than in the thick of it.

as for peter, he's just a supporting character and is happy to be one even if he'll vehemently deny it should she press the issue. making his way to the further reaches suits him fine. he can make note of the hired henchmen lurking at the perimeter, tucked behind corners, and one hilariously lingering by a potted plant.

eventually he reaches his destination, a doorway to a hall which leads them deeper into the belly of this building. he's not surround, but certainly not alone either, finding himself wrapped up in small talk and nodding along to whatever mr. needs a better toupee has to say about his megayacht. it even affords him a decent vantage point where he can keep an eye on kate's progress (or the rest of her in a little black dress, though now's not the time to try and unpack that particular can of worms). peter grimaces, spotting the guy who's mae the unfortunate mistake of hitting on kate while she's waiting for the barkeep. he's pretty sure the heel digging into his foot isn't an accident, but boy if she doesn't sell it as such, looking appropriately apologetic from the angle of her body to the raised eyebrows, hand to mouth, shocked face she's sporting.

he clears his throat — excusing himself for a moment to head through the doorway. once he's alone, he fires off a quick text. they can't exactly use comms when there's an audience, no matter how self-absorbed they may be.]

did you really just stomp on that guy's foot? can't say i blame you. his fake smile was so bright it almost blinded ME.

anyway, give me a few more minutes to get to the supply closet where we stashed our stuff and you can feign a boss-related emergency — your asshole date seems like the type to keep a girl on a short leash.

[ the ping from her phone is a welcome distraction, an opportunity for her to stop her hasty apologizing just in time for her to not want to roll her eyes. she fishes her phone out and pivots away from the man still attempting to get her name in spite of his new injury and that's that. it's her boss, you see. there's been an emergency. ]

wouldve happily stomped on smth else but that wouldve required him to actually have some balls

[ but that's all she'll say on that. maybe some might argue it takes guts to approach someone and shoot your shot, but kate knows better. she'd seen the guy before, one of the many who'd caught her and peter's earlier show. that means he knows she's here with someone else, and that means he thinks she's an easy mark. thus, a coward and a creep. if she had already had one on hand, she would have dumped her drink on him too.

suffice to say her mood is slightly soured, but that's okay because she's finally at the front of the line. a cocktail order later and she's zipping away, hurried steps aided by the facade of needing to rush to an impatient and unforgiving boss, but the drink she'd supposedly gotten for him is quickly downed the moment she steps out of the main ballroom where the function is being held. dropped, too, is the pleasant smile of a young woman eager to please.

by the time she's joining peter in the supply closet, she's already feeling a lot better.

two things:
1) he probably hadn't meant for her to actually join him. this much they hadn't really discussed, but as this is her show, she's far more eager to get her hands on their gear and start feeling like a real hero again instead of having to stand and smile pretty. plus, she's that much closer to the office where the server rests so you know. it just makes sense.
2) she'd forgotten how small that supply closet is. ]

Sorry — is that your hand? Where the heck did the light switch go?

[his phone buzzes in his pocket, no doubt signaling her reply. peter looks about to make sure no one's coming before fishing it out. what if things have gone south since he walked out of view of the ballroom? what if she needs him? naturally she's fine and the message has him laughing out loud as soon as he swipes to unlock.

there's the kate he knows!

confident that there's no change to their time table, he continues on, finds the door to supply closet thankfully still unlocked — thank you to the many and varied uses for a roll of duct tape. he shuts the door behind him with his heel but doesn't bother to flick the light on, blinking until he can focus in the dark. peter climbs the wall and feels around until he finds the ever so slight impression of a web and arrow marking the spot they've hidden their gear, pushes aside the acoustic ceiling tile to retrieve the oversized duffel bag.

he lowers himself and the bag carefully and is about to unzip it when the door opens and kate stumbles inside.

no, he hadn't planned on her meeting him in here. it's really too cramped for two and he can feel her body hovering just inches from his own. as for her hand? it's definitely not touching his.

peter gulps a lungful of air. oh boy.]

Not sure where you learned about human anatomy, but that's definitely not my hand.

[his voice sounds a little strained as he tries and fails to find a spot to shuffle to that doesn't result in him bumping into her in some other way, shape, or form. thank goodness it's dark because he's pretty sure his ears are burning.

better to focus instead on her other question.]

There's not a specific building code, but common sense dictates the light switch should be near the door frame. Probably about 8 inches to your right and about 4 feet from the ground.

[he says it as though it's the most logical thing in the world, as if he actually knows something about construction. the truth is he can see the switch plain as day and if she were to turn around and follow his gaze to the spot on the wall beyond her she'd find the switch exactly where he's said it should be.]

[ thing the first: the darkness should have been a boon. no light means less of a chance that anyone passing by would suspect anything, and it's not like they both haven't handled their respective gear enough times not to know them by touch alone.

thing the second: it is very much to blame for why kate's hand lands where it does. at least, that's kate's story, and at this point she will die by it.

an apology nearly comes flying out of her mouth, but instead she is clamping said mouth shut, a bit too afraid the lizard part of her brain might say something else, something mortifying, something that would only make this situation worse like how his shuffling around to find room just provides friction and oh god why would her hand twitch now, of all times.

light, they need light. ]

Mm-hmm, cool. Yep. That makes sense.

[ the funny thing is, kate was here when they stashed that bag away. she'd seen this supply closet herself, fully stood in it and even unironically remarked how all building supply closets always seem to look exactly alike. there's no reason for her confusion, and even less of a reason for this grave mistake in thinking entering it while peter was still working in it would be a good idea. it's not like peter's a small man. (god let's not let that line of thought get too far away from us—) kate should have definitely been smarter than this.

she turns (clenches her hand into a fist and tries to ignore the tingling, the lingering warmth) and flicks the switch on. immediately they are bathed in fluorescent lighting and the cosmos have chosen mercy for kate by making it so she is now no longer facing peter so she wouldn't have to see his face so soon after all this but the cosmos also has a sick sense of humor because that just means her back is to him so other things are touching and

her voice isn't strained, but clipped. carrying the wince that has yet to leave her expression. ]

This one's on me, my bad.

[ cuz, you know, a "my bad" is definitely a perfectly adequate apology after you've just accidentally groped your friend. ]

[newton's third law of motion dictates that for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. kate's twitching hand leads to peter continuing to try and maneuver which leads to more friction and a simultaneously pleasant and mortifying twitch in response. won't someone please build a machine that pulls him to another dimension? it might be easier than addressing this.

kate's voice, cool and casual, takes him out of his head while her 180 takes her hand from his — yep not touching that with a ten foot pole. not that the situation is any better because suddenly there's lots of harsh light and her mostly exposed back, beautiful even under these terrible conditions. yeah peter acknowledges at last that he can't blame the guy from earlier one bit. kate cuts a real pretty picture no matter what she's wearing and this outfit's no exception. if he thinks about it — which he swears he won't and yet still manages to do by virtue of trying to think otherwise — it's not just the outfit. it's the attitude, the competency with which she carries herself, and the way she's just a little bit mean to him sometimes.

decorum dictates that he should step backward, not lean closer, not shift to where his mouth hangs right by her ear, breathing shallowly as the gears in his head turn and turn.

it definitely doesn't advise that he say the one thing that he shouldn't say in the middle of a very important mission.

he's never been very good at following the script.]

I didn't dislike it.

[ a true, proper apology is sitting half-formed on her tongue, slowly working its way towards completion as she grapples with the fact she can smell his cologne everywhere in this small space, and that the backlessness of her dress makes it far easy to notice the tense set of her shoulders, the way her own quickened breathing comes out in little shudders.

kind of stupid, actually, how the biggest oversight of this mission winds up being her own goddamn partner.

what she should be doing right now, if she's not going to go ahead and apologize like she should, is refocus on the mission at hand. to gather up the knives and smoke bombs they'd stashed away, to remind peter where he can find her if things start to go south. she should take her stuff and go, dip into that office to finally get into those servers and nab those files and call the mission a success before it's even too late for a night cap.

she definitely shouldn't be keenly aware of how close peter remains, of even how much closer he gets. she also definitely shouldn't be entertaining certain thoughts when he says what he says, spoken so close to the sensitive shell of her ear that it's got to be deliberate.

she doesn't move save for the slight turn of her head, just enough that she can look up, meet his eyes.

futz. ]

Table that.

[ she turns again, dipping down into a low crouch right in front of him and okay okay okay she knows what it looks like but don't get too excited okay, it's the duffel bag she's unzipping and stuffing her hand into. she pulls out her things, leaves her bow and quiver leaning neatly against the wall by the door in case shit goes down and necessitates it. stuffs a couple of throwing knives along her garters, tries not to think about how her mouth is watering, just a little, and then okay she's back on her feet and ducking out of the closet to finally sneak into that office. and if her face is red the entire time she did all that? well, that's her business. ]

[that bit about liking that she's a little bit mean? yeah it's definitely a thing — irrefutable now even though she's not actually being mean here but rather logical if a little short. putting the brakes on — well nothing because nothing's really happened. she accidentally groped him and he accidentally liked it and there's a million reasons why he shouldn't be thinking about the slow descent she's making or the way she's reaching out or the things it makes him want, mouth parted and lips dry. is she going to do what he thinks she is? oh oh. peter licks his lips as he stares down her so close and then so far because of course. of course, she's reaching for her things because they're working and this isn't a night out. they have a mission.

this is just a little bit much. his face feels like it's burning.

he watches the door swing shut. somehow, peter remains stock still as she high tails it out there leaving just him and his thoughts.

work. get the files. get out. focus. then apologize.

he shucks off his suit jacket, rolls up his sleeves, fishing his spare web-shooters from the depths of the bag before they get carefully fastened and the sleeves and jacket go back in place. then he grabs the assortment of web bombs and a few taser bombs — thank you miles for the idea — tucking them in his pockets for safekeeping.

flick goes the light switch and he's hurrying off after her, running to make up for the head start she's gotten. eventually he makes it to her, only having to take out three guys along the way, who he webs together, stuffing them into an empty conference room.]

Kate. Kate. Hold up. Should we be worried given how eerily quiet it's been?

I'm used to slightly more zealous evil-doing.

[ the thing about largely relying on your archery when it comes to crime-fighting and your general hero-doing is that you are always keenly aware of how limited your arsenal is. for every fight you do happen to be prepared for, there are only so many arrows you can bring. so few chances to make sure each shot counts.

when kate leaves the supply closet she's got a total of eight throwing knives on her, four strapped to each thigh, two smoke bombs and three taser bombs that she had only sort of definitely got excited over upon seeing them the night before. (taser arrows! she'd said, fingering one of the bombs kind of recklessly as peter likely watched on with mild anxiety.) all this to say, she'd opted for sneaking around and past the three men peter inevitably takes care of, so it's no surprise he catches up to her as easily as he does. she stops in the middle of the hall, looking at him unblinkingly as his words settle into her head, pushing past the warmth she'd been trying to walk off. she winces. ]

...Maybe they all just want a night to party?

[ surely even evil-doers take a night off, hang up their evil weapons, do some evil relaxing. of course, no more than a second after she says that is there suddenly a commotion down the opposite end of the hall. she doesn't get a chance to curse at her own misfortune, undoubtedly jinxing them; four men in black suits far more ill-fitted than peter's own show up, the two in the front holding up guns before shouting for the two of them to freeze. the man on the left is faster than the man on the right to lift and aim, but kate is faster than both. there's a rustle of fabric, a flare of skirt at a tall slit, a sharp cry and now she's down one knife, great.

the other men stir, dumbfounded the people they'd tried to apprehend actually fought back, and kate takes the opportunity to grab peter by the jacket and pivot them both into a nearby room and ohthankgod the door was unlocked. this time when her hand flies out to grope along the wall, it's definitely a lightswitch that she finds. she hears the thundering of footsteps running their way. she looks up at peter. ]

What are the chances this door is bullet-proof?

[judging by the head tilt and incredulous look he sports, peter doesn't quite believe kate's suggestion that the henchmen he'd seen hovering around the ballroom wouldn't also be roaming the halls. sure enough, the cavalry arrive, peter notes that none among the four are those he'd tied up, so at least they're not out for revenge on top of doing their jobs.

he manages to thwip a gun out of one of the men's hands, sending it skidding down the hall, before kate is hauling them off and into a room to regroup.

if he'd had more time to plan, if they weren't going to a black tie event, he would have suggested a wardrobe that afforded her just a little more room for inventory. though, just like her, peter rarely has anything more on him than a small supply of bombs and his web-shooters, preferring to make use of improvised weapons based upon his surroundings (also the suit — his spidey suit that is — doesn't have any real pockets, so tonight's wardrobe's actually a bit of a step up in his case.)

his eyes narrow as he scans the room they're in, spies the typical office items — desk, chairs, stapler, heavy binders, file cabinet. good all reasonable things to throw at determined henchmen. he prefers open spaces, but this will do.]

Probably slim. We can still get the jump on them though. Here.

[he hands over his stash of bombs — three web bombs (good for when you have a cluster of guys he'd told her as they'd packed the bag what seems like forever ago) and two more taser bombs]

I think those might be better in your hands than mine. I can just hang out on the ceiling and get the drop on them. We can take this group out and double back to grab your bow before we get those files just in case.

[he doesn't wait for her to confirm. there's no time to bicker about it. sensing that the ones who'd found them are just about to barge in, peter climbs up the wall and lies in wait.]

[ yeeeeah, she didn't think they'd have that much luck on their sides either. still, sometimes it's just nice to hope, even if they do get dashed almost immediately. peter stuffs the rest of his homemade weapons into her hands, cutting off whatever protest she might have had (but what about you?) with logic (yes yes, she remembers now, three words: radioactive spider powers). time isn't really on their side anyway, leaving kate with just one or two more seconds to watch the man climb the wall (will it ever get old? probably not) before commotion behind the door finally forces her to move.

even in pumps she's light on her feet, turning and making a mad dash to duck behind the large mahogany desk just as the door bursts open and three of the four men stumble in, two guns raised. the third was the one peter thwipped, and the four one staggers in last clutching his bleeding hand. he tells the others to "Leave that fucking bitch to me," making kate just barely able to hold back a roll of her eyes. they get close enough and so she tosses a web bomb over her shoulder— futz nope that was a smoke bomb dangit and now the small office is flooded in it crap crap crap! she flings another bomb over and, yes, thank god, it's finally the web bomb she wanted. thanks to her earlier fuck up though the men had separated enough that she only manages to web two of them. gun #1 and bleeding hand stumble away from the other two, who quickly topple to the floor from their lack of balance.

kate peeks her head out from behind the desk but she can't see much past the thick cloud of smoke. had peter dropped down yet? she can hear struggling but she doesn't know who or why that is. it's not worth risking accidentally hitting peter, so she drops the rest of the bombs he'd given her and instead jumps back into the fray, jumping onto the back of the first lumbering figure she sees. ]

Edited 2021-10-16 12:28 (UTC)

[from above, peter winces as the door slams open, not quite rattling the frame, but between that and the awful comeback from the guy with the bleeding hand, he can't help but feel like his eardrums are rattling.

he thwips at the group and misses on the first go, having to readjust on the wall as kate shrouds them in a cloud of smoke. her second attempt hits home and if there weren't still two more hired hands to contend with he might cheer. deal with the problem. celebrate later

peter doesn't have the same problems that he's sure kate is having with spotting the men in close quarters with limited visibility, but doesn't want to get blindsided all the same, so he crawls his way to the doorframe and positions himself outside. the hallway's narrow but it affords him enough distance to more accurately aim a web at the last gun, yanking it out of goon number one's grasp. an angry hey is the response, followed by his grunt as kate leaps on his back.

confident that she's got that one handled, peter diverts his attention to the last man, pulling him from the room with a web or two thrown at his ankles.]

Why don't you pick on someone whose hands aren't a little busy?

[he ducks as the man tries to lunge toward him, misjudges and gets a fist to his jaw. ow]

Alright. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

[and with that peter webs his hands together, then thwips his mouth shut in case he gets any ideas about mouthing off again and wraps him up like a mummy. he tips his head back into the room to watch kate pummel the last guy.]

You got that one handled yet?

[ through the smoke peter will hear a few grunts, a strained Working on it, a very loud rip of fabric and kate swears in response. there's a thwak! and one final grunt from goon one before there is the unmistakable sound of a body going down. a few seconds later kate joins peter in the hallway, looking fairly unscathed save for her hair being slightly mussed up and the large rip in the bottom of her dress that she looks less than thrilled about. ]

I just got this last week, [ she mutters mournfully, right as she bends down to tear it the rest of the way off. she tosses it into the room before closing the door shut behind her. she looks down both ends of the hallways, clear for now. she attempts to pat her hair back down to its former glory as she starts back towards the office with the files. ]

I'm blaming that on you, by the way. You totally jinxed us.

[ah yes the dreaded wardrobe malfunction. he's lost track of the number of outfits ruined as a result of unexpected scrapes. naturally, he nods in sympathy but then scowls at the idea that he was somehow to blame.]

Excuse me. This your operation. I didn't jinx anything that wasn't already highly likely to occur.

[peter straightens his tie and pops back into the supply closet, grabbing the duffel along with her bow and arrows. no sense in leaving them behind or having to double back. it means he moves a little slower than he'd like, of course, but the stretch of hall they've already covered is mercifully still empty and so he catches up without too much effort on his end.]

Peace offering for ruining your dress, just in case.

[because he can't be sure that the guards didn't alert their boss, or have other friends who are on their way, and the likelihood that their anonymity is shot is high, so why not just go out guns — ahem — arrows blazing.

he settles in place behind her, walking backwards as she moves forward to keep an eye on anyone who'd try to sneak up on them. before long, they make it to their destination. he tries the handle. unsurprisingly, the door to the office is locked, but there is a card reader off to the side.]

You didn't happen to find a key card on one of those guys did you?

[ gone is their anonymity and their element of surprise, so haste is now their best friend at this point in the mission. it's no like they can continue to skate by innocuously, nit when kate's flashing leg from a ripped hem that definitely can't be blamed on a weird fashion trend.

she stares at the keypad for a moment (zoning out already? she may or may not have gotten smacked in the head by an errant, wailing fist in all that smoke) but peter's voice stirs her back into action, fishing out a plastic card from the bustier of her dress. ]

What, this keycard?

[ please, peter. she's a professional.

one swipe later and she's rushing into the room, making a beeline for the desktop computer as soon as her sights fall on it. with all the grace of a toddler who's just been handed a keyboard for the first time in her life, kate bangs on the keys in an effort to get the monitor to flicker to life. it does, miraculously, but almost instantly a login screen greets her.

she throws peter a distressed look. ]

Can you beep-boop this open??

[ #techtalk ]

Showoff.

[he mutters, complete with eyeroll, but there's no malice, just a good amount of respect and a dash of affection coloring the words. peter follows after, watches her beat on the computer as if this is the film zoolander and the way to the files is through brute force. fun fact: it's not.

for someone who should be living and breathing the internet, she really should know how to do these things a little bit better. beep boop. honestly. he shoos her off to the side and holds his hand out expectantly.]

Necklace please.

[tick tock. peter clicks his tongue as if kate doesn't know that time isn't on their side. it's not helping and he glances sideways to see her staring daggers at him, but at last she dumps the necklace into his awaiting palm.

a shift of his hand to jiggle the pendant free and then he lets the chain fall unceremoniously onto the desk. he twists the arrowhead and then sticks the end into one of the port on the front. he taps away furiously until the screen shifts to black and a dialog box with the telltale spidey logo in the corner pops up.

the software takes a minute to decompress and then what feels like the world's slowest progress bar works on unlocking the computer.]

Give it about two minutes and we should be ready to download whatever you're looking for.

Showoff.

[ same tone, same eyeroll, but followed by a hipcheck that nudges him aside enough that she can peer at the progress bar, as if doing so will somehow get it to go even faster. spoilers: it does not. she settles instead for turning back to peter, brows lifted. ]

You're really good at this.

[ it's pure statement of fact, not as if she's surprised by it but more a candid observation and convenient segue: ]

You know there's always a spot available on Team Hawkeye. You could be the harried but rugged Q to my sexy James Bond.

[ (it kind of begs the question: how the heck was kate planning on doing all this herself in the first place? pure gut and moxie, that's how. and luck. lots and lots of luck.)

the computer makes a sound that draws kate's attention for a second, but the screen itself hasn't changed so she chalks it up to weird computer things. oh, that reminds her— ]

Whatever happened to your friend from earlier? Did he dip?

[there's a swell of pride that comes any time someone thinks he's good at something, and he can't help but smile and revel in the observation. peter rolls the idea of more frequent team ups around in his head. he's not opposed but there is just one part of the scenario that doesn't sit well with him, however.]

Q doesn't exactly get out much, you know. How about we just stick with me being the Peter to your Kate who sometimes offers his expertise.

[sometimes is more than once, and it kind of seems like kate (and by extension clint) might benefit from a person who doesn't quite look at a computer like it's some alien life form. currently, the computer's just making typical hard drive whirring sounds. all normal. no need to worry. but kate's asking him about kingpin and peter has to shrug because he'd been busy...]

I hope so. Didn't spot him. Yeah. I know but I was also kind of making sure you didn't need a hand.

[is that his way of admitting that maybe he cares a little? possibly. but there's no time for elaboration, because the progress bar finally hits 100%. peter clicks ok and then they're in. he looks over questioningly at kate, recalling her earlier tech-y helplessness before he offers to keep helping.]

Alright, what am I looking for in here exactly?

[ of course kate hadn't really expected spider-man, of all people, to hang up his mask and take on the cushier job of working behind the scenes. peter's been at this for literally as long as she is old (oh wow); if he hasn't slowed down before, he sure as hell isn't about to slow down any time soon. still, she allows herself a couple moments of disappointment... mostly to say good-bye to the amusing image in her head of peter in a smart little cardigan.

the Look she gives him when he mentions his neglect regarding one of his very own adversaries is conflicted; surprise he let something that big go, touched he'd been so focused on her that it completely slipped his mind. but that's something she can mull over later... there's still a mission at hand after all. ]

Project Lawrence.

[ with peter effectively taking over all things technical, kate sidles up close to his side to peer over his shoulder and watch him work. ]

Supposedly there's some new drug a few of the local crime families are trying to push out. It puts people in a catatonic state where they're meant to reach "enlightenment." These files are supposed to have details on the people involved... and how to make it.

[ she wrinkles her nose after her explanation, lips pursed. she drops her chin to his shoulder, trying to make sense of the screen in front of her. ]

I think it's supposed to be a Shakespeare reference.

Shakespeare. Haven't heard that name in a long time. People are so weird about code names for projects. [he's not expecting a response, just trying to fill up the quiet and drown out the hum of the computer server he can hear tucked in a nearby room. actually, there's a lot of distracting sounds right now, chief among them even being kate herself, though he's pretty sure she's unaware or maybe it's that he's just hyper-aware. hell, even without the help of his powers, it's impossible not to notice how close she is, her breathing steady, scent of her shampoo prominent as she stands beside him.

his fingers fly across the keyboard, typing the search query into the crawler. in a matter of minutes the number of documents that they uncover is mind-boggling. curiosity getting the better of him, peter opens one. it turns out to be some lab notes, a detailed chemical composition, and 3d modeling of the compound. he skims over the test subject logs, feels his stomach churn.]

This is a lot bigger than just a few of the local crime families, I think.

[he thinks back to kingpin's presence, wonders if he's finally venturing beyond the five boroughs, wonders when they get to deep-diving into this info just how far it reaches. he copies the files onto the flash drive, safely ejects it and slips the arrowhead back on its chain, taking care to clasp it back around kate's neck, hands a little shakier this time.]

Alright. That's everything I could find. Let's get out of here before we bump into anyone else. How's your stomach feeling, by the way?

[ peter's findings gets a low, grumbling curse from kate, who finally rocks back on her heels to give him back his space. she starts to pace, though, which is probably just as distracting, chewing on the nail of her thumb in thought before she's being dragged back to the present by a pair of shaky hands and a question. ]

My stomach?

[ what a weird thing to ask all of a sudden. does he know she hadn't had lunch or eating much of anything besides that bagel off the bagel cart this morning? (the cocktail from earlier definitely doesn't count.) ]

It's fine? I guess?

[ she's so thrown by it she can't even answer without the questioning tone. ]

you know you're gonna be okay — open post

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wow sorry for this useless tag

pfft. gotta set the scene somehow.

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your choice for wherever her hand actually landed. he's embarrassed regardless of location.

dangerous to give me such freedom...

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