thwipandquip | you know you're gonna be okay

you're in various stages of dress when i think about you.

but i prefer the real thing to anything my brain can conjure up.

[oh good she's closer than expected. he grabs the lighting rig and sets it up in his room while he waits for her to show]

[ kate much prefers the real thing too, which is maybe why she's so eager to step out of her uber and walk up to his apartment building. she buzzes the intercom properly this time, even if she's starting to make it a habit of coming here at odd hours. no doubt peter's nosy neighbor has enough fodder to think up all kinds of salacious stories about them at this point. ]

Soda, beer, a bottle of the good cheap stuff.

[ she brandishes her evening's gifts with a loud crinkle of the reusable bag she got guilted into purchasing at the counter. she sets it down on peter's coffee table before shrugging off her jacket and leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips in greeting. she smells faintly of alcohol and leather, bit that's the bull's fault, honest. ]

[peter's nosy neighbors have graduated from merely giving him looks to making little comments under their breath whenever they cross paths while checking the mail. why does this girl come late at night but never during the daytime? what could she possibly see in such an older man? i have a nephew who is just about her age who would be more suited. then again if her habits of showing up so late are any indication, she must not be a good girl. it's almost enough to make him consider giving her a key just to avoid the awkwardness, but that'd bring a new set of things to deal with. he buzzes her in without a word, taking the last few minutes to set a shoebox on top of his covers (a very boring but typical masculine charcoal grey) before hurrying back over to open his door at the sound of her knock. damn. got the jump on him this time.]

Hey. Thanks.

[and then she's in his space, the scent of this evening's bar jaunt still clinging to her. it hasn't been that long, but the funny thing about relationships — good relationships but especially new relationships — is that time away always seems amplified. peter wraps an arm around her waist and gives her another kiss, slow, nibbling on her lower lip until she parts them and he can slot their mouths together a little better. there. now that's a kiss.]

Missed you. Box of photos are on my bed. We can go look at them whenever. Want me to grab you a glass or are you just going to drink your wine straight out of the bottle?

[ on the one hand kate feels pretty magnanimous to be providing those neighbors what is apparently the most excitement in their life right now. on the other, she dares them to say any of that to her face. she won't throw hands but she'll probably run her mouth enough to earn peter some disgruntled neighbors so maybe it's a good thing they don't cross paths unless he wants his packages stepped on.

the other funny thing about relationships is how even the little things seem like such a big deal. like how kiss hello can already leave her breath hitching, or a simple missed you has her ready to never leave his side again. embarrassing, but she also kind of loves it. ]

Drinking wine out of a "World's Okayest Spidey" mug is about on par with drinking it straight out of the bottle so I might as well save us a dish to wash and stick to the bottle.

[ she got him that mug, of course, and that was even pre-relationship. god her flirting skills are really A+, how did you ever doubt her feelings peter??

anyway now that she's in his arms it's difficult for her to want to move away, but there are photos to parse through and drinks to consume. shoes toed off, she plucks up the wine and leaves the beer and soda for peter before leading the way to his bedroom, a space that is quickly becoming her second favorite to occupy. (first is those arms again.) sitting crosslegged in front of the box, she tentatively lifts up the cover to peek inside. it feels a little wrong to start rifling through without him around to supervise, so she exercises some restraint for once. ]

Aw that's so sweet of you.

[and classy. that mug only ever gets used by her. he hides it in the depths of the cupboard and somehow she always manages to find it. but no matter how lukewarm he feels toward it, he can't seem to bear to get rid of the thing, touched that she would even give him such a ridiculous thing. they're so sweet on each other it's kind of pathetic that they ever doubted at all.

peter sets the beer and soda in the fridge to continue to chill, grabbing himself one of the sodas and then joining kate atop his bed, legs outstretched as she nudges the lid all the way off. inside are pictures of his family and friends (some a old as his teen years while others are more recent from aunt may's last days,) pigeons and scenes that would rival any guidebook to new york, and a few experimental self portraits. notably absent are any photos of mary jane ~~parker~~ watson. those live in another box, stubbornly kept because she's a huge part of his past, tangled up with the other parts of his life both in and out of the suit.

peter holds his breath while she rifles through them, waits for questions that he's sure will follow.]

[ in retrospect it's actually a good thing she'd never seen these photos until after they'd gotten together; she can't really do anything about the fondness that softens her expression as she flips through each photo. every one of them gets at least a minute's worth of attention, yes even the pigeons. her questions are relatively benign but still coming from a place of genuine interest — where/when was this? how old were you here? why are you making that fce? what the hell are jnco jeans?

predictably the ones she lingers on the most are of the ones he'd taken of himself. there's a particular one in black and white of his profile that she keeps coming back to, but if she had to pick a favorite... ]

You look so happy here.

[ she holds up a photo of peter, probably the age she is now, seemingly mid-laugh and a hand out towards the camera as if he were attempting to block it or grab it back from whoever had taken it. it's such a simple picture, but so vibrant in its simplicity.

she doesn't mention the elephant in the shoebox, though trust that she's definitely noticed the distinct lack of red. ]

[he knows that when he looks back however long in the future from now that this moment, more than any of the moments they've shared before, will stick out as one in which he realizes just how real things are between them and how deeply the feelings run. peter rests his chin upon her shoulder, arms wrapped around her as his hands join hers about midway through the box, peering at the photos along with her. he takes the journey back through time to each moment held static on glossy photo paper and answers the questions to the best of his ability, details of the oldest photos gone fuzzy over time. that one was when he was seven. this one was at coney island. the other a school field trip.

the one she lingers on the most is naturally one of the ones where mj's presence looms in he periphery. his voice is soft, a little sad, hangs on that yeah like its one of his webs and while he acknowledges that he was happy then, it's clear that the happiness is a little bittersweet. peter swallows the lump in his throat down.

no sense in dwelling on that past though. he's happy now after all.]

Edited 2021-10-30 14:25 (UTC)

[ that yeah is a soft sound against her ear, more syllable than word, twisting up in her chest like a fault she knows she'll be thinking about till the wee hours of the morning. she had a suspicion who might have been the one behind that camera — the affection in those eyes brighten up his features in an all too familiar way — and hearing him now only confirms it.

were she someone more prone to regrets, she might feel it now, worry that she might have ruined the evening, dredged up something unpleasant that she has no business encroaching on. instead she feels only a sympathetic tug at her heart, something protective that makes her want to shield him from everything that could ever make him feel this weighted, like the world's just bearing down on him with no remorse.

she runs her thumb over the shape of his smile on the photo before settling it down, reverently tucking it back into its place there in his memories. ]

Not sure about those frosted tips though. That was definitely a choice.

[ her ribbing is gentle, a bit at odds with the tenderness in her tone and the softness of the kiss she presses to his temple after she twists a little in his arms. too easy does she find it to tuck herself into the circle of his arms, leaning into his chest with her cheek resting on his shoulder. the wine bottle is still unopened, cradled between her legs, but it gives her itchy hands something to play with while she waits for the silence between them to grow comfortable again. ]

Aw. Stop it. Everyone has a stage in their life filled with questionable fashion choices.

[he offers with an ever so slight shrug of his shoulders. there's probably plenty of other moments that aren't documented (to his knowledge) that he isn't inclined to share. who needs to know about his punk phase anyway?

it's easy to just hang on like this, not saying anything else while he takes a deep breath, counts to ten and lets the past stay exactly where it belongs. he tugs at her sleeve to get her attention at last, ready to face the other part of the evening that she's suggested, to iron out just what she feels comfortable with, how they'll do this, or when because he's not convinced that they need to do it tonight even if he's prepped for it.]

So... do you still want me to take pictures of you?

[ she can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest with every deliberate breath, stays still throughout it all save for the slight tilting of her head, lips lightly pressing an encouraging kiss to the side of his neck. the tug on her sleeve has her sitting up some, more so she can get a proper look at the expression on his face. ]

Yeah. If you're still up for it.

[ she's not sure if the mood or evening has soured at all; while she's pretty sure it wouldn't be hard to shift things along, she's not entirely sure if they should. the past is the past but some memories deserve their respect. is this something she has the right to move them past? or should she be be sensitive enough to wait for the dust to properly settle. she's not sure, so she's willing to take cue from peter, what he's comfortable with, what he needs. ]

Absolutely.

[he looks at her then, voice sure, smiles just for her as he untangles from her arms and tucks the box of photos back in the closet before returning to the warmth and comfort of her embrace, kiss pressed to her cheek. his long held feelings for his ex might be something that still linger there in the background, never completely gone, but that's not going to cause any issues with what he feels for her. not at all. he may be unsure about lots of things — how to fix global warming, what's the best dessert in brooklyn — but he knows she's special, knows that she's the kind of person he wants sticking around.]

Do you really want to be naked for these photos?

[because he doesn't need pictures of her for those times when he'd like her there in his bed and she isn't. he'd be just as happy to capture the normal things in their life — her eating pizza, the mornings when she uses that damn coffee mug, the way she looks when the sunlight streams through his windows and she's just begun to blink her eyes open, or how she looks at the end of the night, face scrubbed clean. if it is though, he's going to be sure to keep them classy, subtle — her bare shoulder, her exposed back with his sheets pooling around her hips, her hands.]

Because you don't have to be, but I like that you trust me enough that you'd consider it and I like how you look in my bed. So much. But I also just like you in my apartment, in my space in general.

[ there's a little twinge of guilt that comes along with the relief she feels when he puts the box of photos away. she feels especially bad since she's the one who asked for them in the first place; she definitely should have had more forethought to realize rifling through memories means reliving the bad with the good. ah well. if he's ok with moving past it, she's selfish enough to grab at the chance.

she situates herself so that they're facing each other, slipping a leg on either side of him while she herself is tucked between his. she seeks her his hands out with hers, lacing their fingers together. ]

It was a thought. But mostly I want to make something for you, something that you'd really want. If that's me naked or posing with my bow or drowning in your spider suit, whatever.

I want —

[he pauses, squeezing her hands. so much he thinks. he wants more mornings, more pizza dates, more reasons for them to work side by side. ]

This. You. Here. I don't want to fill a box with your pictures. But I do want to take all of those photos. Because I'm pretty sure you'd look hilarious in my suit and I know you look good with your bow and —

[oh gosh why isn't she stopping him from running at the mouth? peter gives her another one of those looks that says he thinks she's amazing, that she's got him wrapped around her finger, that she could ask him to leap off a building with her and he would.]

[ why would she stop this, greedy as she is for the attention, the affection? if anything, she'll put a pause to it, just to pepper his lips with kisses because she can't help herself, because she'd kiss him breathless every time if she could. ]

Then you'll get it. [ all of it, she wants it too. more memories that will only turn happier in retrospect, more moments that they can claim as theirs and theirs alone. ] As far as I'm concerned, we've got plenty of time for it all.

[ because she's not going anywhere, not if she can help it. as long as he wants her by his side, she's stubborn enough to do whatever it takes to stay there, even if it means fighting his own demons along the way. she didn't ever think this was going to be easy, but when he smiles at her like that it feels like it is — like it's the easiest, most natural thing in the world. ]

[he knows it's not easy, has never been hopeful enough to think that things between them would be simple, but she makes it easy, easier than it has any right to be, fills his heart with the kind of optimism that he only remembers from his long gone youth. it's a precious rare thing this feeling that grows by the day.] Might want to be careful throwing statements like that around.

[he cautions even as he's leaning in to kiss her forehead, her nose, the corner of her mouth.] Sounds an awful lot like you like me for more than just how I look in spandex.

[it sounds an awful lot like the kind of thing you say to someone you can see yourself loving is what he thinks, but they're not at that point. who knows if they will get there, but like she says they've got plenty of time. plenty of opportunities to make each other even happier.

peter nudges at the bottle still between her legs, before plucking it from her and setting it on his nightstand.]

How's about we save this for when that pizza get here. I know what picture of you I want to take first.

[ kate? running her mouth off without thorough thought over the implications of her words? it's more likely than you think! ]

Ah, you caught me. I also like how you look in a tux.

[ kate isn't someone who goes into things half-heartedly. she's here because she wants to be, because she's excited for whatever comes next, to know they'll discover and experience it together. they have the time because they'll make the time, because they both want to see where this will go. she tries to toe the balance between being optimistic and realistic; so far? all signs point to a pretty bright future for them. at the very least, they both seem ready to work hard for it.

if there's one promise kate's ready to make to peter, it's that so long as she still cares this way about him, she'll never stop trying to make them work. ]

It's not actually me in your suit, is it? [ she shifts in his hold a little, giving him room to detangle himself in case he needed to get to work on setting anything up. ] I was only half kidding, I'll never find my way out of there.

[the tux comment gets tucked away for future date considerations. peter's sure grin suggesting that he knows he cleans up well. but no, he doesn't want to see her in one of his suits — formal or otherwise. he shakes his head as he darts back into his closet to find just the item — a faded blue henley this time — and holds it out for her to take ]

No suit. I'd have to roll up the sleeves and pant legs and you'd still drown in it. But I do like seeing you in my clothes. You always look cozy.

[ while kate has no response to that (because they both know it's true), she still purses her lips sourly in petulance. yes, it's true, but he doesn't have to be so loud about it. it's not her fault he's a skyscraper.

she recognizes that henley though, obvious in the way she perks up at the sight of it. she has very fond memories of peter wearing it — mostly how nicely it stretches across his chest and emphasizes his broad shoulders — but it's also a shirt that, just like the state of it would suggest, has been worn many times by its owner for that very thing, the coziness. ]

Your clothes are comfortable.

[ an obvious statement, given his affinity for athleisure, but there's definitely more to it than that. when she takes the shirt from him, she unconsciously holds it up to her face to give it a deep sniff, like the first breath in the morning after a long sleep, before she unfolds it to hold it up against her front. not as oversized on her as his hoodies have been, but it would definitely still reach her thighs. ]

Just this?

[it's not his fault she's pocket-sized in comparison. peter would apologize, but she seems pretty pleased with the weight of his shirt in her fingertips and the scent of his detergent filling her nostrils.]

Yeah. If that's okay.

[he nods ever so slightly as he takes in where it will fall, leaving her legs bare. he can see the shots framed in his head: kate caught mid-laugh & eyes crinkled at the corners, gazing down at him while she cards her fingers through his hair, breathless after being kissed.]

[ the grin she flashes him tells him it's more than okay, but just in case he still doubts how dedicated she is to this photoshoot—

the henley is set aside for the moment, freeing kate's hands up so she can work on pulling her own shirt up over her head. maybe she was meant to demurely step into the bathroom to change, but kate appreciates expediency and efficiency. almost as much as she appreciates the way his eyes appreciate her, so it's with a glint of mischief in her eye that she undresses right in front of him, like she's practically daring him to stop her at any second and finish the job himself. she keeps her underwear on at least. something for him to busy his hands with later, should he feel like it. as a treat.

the henley is, predictably, featherlight against her skin when she finally shrugs it on. she runs her hands over the fabric, obscenely soft. ]

If you see me sneak off with this later, no you didn't.

[while the intent had been for her to go change elsewhere or for him to step away for a moment to allow her the privacy of his room to do so, peter can't say that he's mad about her healthy appreciation for efficiency, or as he likes to call it her impatience. so appreciate her he does, lip trapped between his teeth as he watches inch after inch of skin come into view. and though he's seen it all before, he still gazes in wonder that he gets to look.

peter doesn't intervene, much as he wants to, fingers itching to slide the rest of her clothes off and nudge her into bed — it's right there — and in lieu of taking care of it himself he rocks back onto his heels and snaps a photo just as she manages to slip the shirt over her head, catching the tail end of that mischievous look as she warns him that he's about to lose another shirt to the keep kate bishop fully covered in bed fund.

he only looks a little miffed about it, but the protest is real.]

Nope. How many shirts have you absconded with now? Four? Five?

[ his protest is met with an indifferent shrug. ]

Don't have so many comfortable shirts then.

[ it's entirely out of her hands that there is a small but significant (and steadily growing) pile of oversized shirts that smell of peter's detergent in one of her drawers. she is but a victim of fate and peter the collateral damage.

but, now that the photoshoot is actually underway, kate feels suddenly bashful. she hadn't thought this far ahead — or rather, she hadn't thought it would feel any different than posing for spicy selfies herself. turns out it's completely different when it's a) someone else behind the lens, and b) meant more for sentimentality than sensuality. the intimacy of the moment has her shyly glancing everywhere but at peter himself, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. the hem of the henley gets played it, tugging lower over her hips. ]

Should I pose or...?

[she says it like it's his fault that his shirts are well lived in, usually out of necessity, sometimes out of sheer sentimental refusal to toss an item that was a cherished gift. does kate acquire clothing from all the boys she's known before? that's the real question. as is whether she'd somehow liberate his clothing even if it wasn't as soft against her skin. ]

Sure. I'll keep that in mind the next time I go shopping. Buy burlap shirts or something.

[peter jokes as he snaps another photo, of her looking shyly away, tugging at the hem of his shirt. he likes moments like this a lot, when she's a little disarmed, vulnerable, soft, so soft that he could just lean in to kiss her fidgeting away.

to her question of posing, he shakes his head adamantly. he's not looking for anything to look staged even if he might end up asking her to hold still or wait while he adjusts something. he has no doubt that at least a few of these will end up edging the line of sensual photos that he'd not want to share with anyone else, peter mostly just wants kate to get to see just how beautiful she is, how he sees her, insecurities, flaws, and the lovely undercurrent of goodness that was the first thing he liked about her.

if he can manage to capture even a fraction of that, these will undoubtedly be his best work yet.]

No. I want you to ignore the camera entirely. It's not here. It's just us.
Be yourself. Talk to me about your stakeout. Tell me about Lucky. You can even talk to me about Clint if you want.

[ kate thinks if anyone can make burlap look good, it'd be peter. and that's definitely her bias talking here; this is the same woman who'd grown smitten with peter's hobo chic, after all.

at the mention of her partner, though, her nose wrinkles on reflex. ]

Definitely do not want to think about Clint when I'm half naked on your bed and I hate you put that thought in my head.

[ her expression softens after a second, indicating her scorn isn't all that genuine. she leans back on her hands and stretches out her legs in front of her, crossing one ankle over the other as she starts to settle and does her best to ignore the camera, just like peter's said. it's harder than she thought it would he, so she tries to just lose herself in their conversation. ]

The stakeout was a bust, which you probably already figured out. Third night in a row the subject didn't show, but my client's pretty adamant this bar is a frequent haunt.

[ she pauses to nibble on her lower lip a little, idly watching her toes wiggle in her thought. she never really knows how much to say whenever she has one of her private detective cases — patient confidentiality and all — but peter's... peter. it feels weird not to be completely honest with him, even if it is part of the job.

she glances at him after a moment. ]

You ever wonder what you'd be doing if you weren't doing the hero thing?

[the nose crinkle gets chronicled for all eternity as does the way her face softens after. click. wind. click. peter's smile just grows with each photo taken. so fond.

he watches the careful negotiation, that desire to talk about her work but still keep things back, for reasons he understands — people pay her for discretion, the less he knows the better, their work doesn't actually cross over that much. there's things he's had to keep from so many people before, not that he likes it, of course. it's particularly hard with her because peter wants to tell kate everything, open his mouth and let everything just spill free.

as it does with her question. that's easy.]

Yeah. All the time. Probably not very interesting. I loved the lab work I did outside of spidey stuff. More of that probably. You do know I'm a doctor, right? PhD but still. What about you? Where would you be?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject