thwipandquip | you know you're gonna be okay

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?

[ it's getting easier to ignore the click and whirr of the camera, especially when kate can keep her focus on the way he keeps smiling at her. funny how something so simple can make her feel both weightless and grounded. ]

I heard something like that.

[ rather, it'd been something she looked up one day, after being on the receiving end of one of peter's science ramblings. easy enough to find his name among the graduates and doctoral candidates of empire state university. as someone whose own college plans took a sudden backseat to the shift in heroism in her life, she'd only found herself growing more respect for him. school is hard enough when you're also not actively trying to save new york city or the world. ]

You'd look pretty hot in a lab coat.

[ when he turns the question on her, she can only shrug. ]

Before the Young Avengers, I had a whole roadmap already laid out for me. Finish up school, get into Harvard Business. Dad was adamant one of his kids pick up where he'll leave off, and Susan was just too soft-hearted for it. Dad always said I was shrewd and ruthless enough for business. [ her lips flatten our dryly. ] I used to think it was a compliment.

But, for better or for worse, the Bishop daughters were too much like their mom than their dad. I probably would have just tried to find something in the women's shelters I volunteered at.

Edited 2021-11-06 09:48 (UTC)

[he sets the camera down in favor of shooting her a quizzical look. sure, peter's name might be known here and there in the local scientific community, but that's not her social circle. could she have looked him up? does he have a wikipedia page? are there horribly embarrassing photos of his grad school days? peter is fairly certain there's probably at least the one of him legs akimbo atop a lab bench surrounded by a chalk outline — no sleep plus lab practicals make the most absurd things funny — but wonders what else could be floating around online.

then again, if she's seen any of those photos, she couldn't possibly think he looks hot in a lab coat. they're anything but attractive, doubly so when paired with goggles and gloves.]

I think you'd have been good at that. Nonprofit aid work that is. You care about people. So much.

[he slips his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.]

How often have you taken on a case just because it was the right thing to do even if the person couldn't pay you?

[ sometimes i care too much, she almost says, but refrains if only not to ruin the mood. she likes how he looks at her like that, full of hope and pride. like she isn't two sneezes away from being a royal fuck up. (when you share a moniker with clinton francis barton, what do you expect?) she wonders if he can tell, from the eager way she grasps his hand back, how she sometimes stays up at night wondering how she hasn't managed to fuck this up just yet. ]

It's.. frustrating, sometimes. Wanting to do so much, but only being able to do so little.

[ it's a hero thing, isn't it? feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders.

she lowers herself down on her back, giving his hand a tug in a silent bid for him to join her. ]

Maybe in a different universe I'm the one with the powers, and you're the one that has to hail a cab anytime they want to head downtown.

It is. For every person you save there's easily a dozen others you can't. It's the worst when you know you can't help and yet you try anyway.

[he nods solemnly in agreement. it's the plight of the hero, or particularly, the plight of the small-time hero, because he doesn't think that the likes of captain america or iron man feel this same gnawing ache for each person that they've failed to help. maybe he's wrong about that though. perhaps it keeps them up at night, the fall out from their world-saving battles: the parents and children. the kids hit him hardest of all.

peter takes the hint, tucks his chin on her shoulder as he curls around her on his side, hand still wrapped in hers coming to rest atop her beating heart. he's not sure how he's managed to not screw things up between them but one day at a time seems to be working out best.]

Maybe there is, but I think you're pretty amazing even without the powers. I remember what I was like before. Not very remarkable other than being smart. Do you think alternate universe me and alternate universe you would've figured their shit out though? Or do you think we'd still be awkwardly checking each other out when the other person wasn't looking?

[ she hums in response to his agreement, but decides to leave it at that. she could go on, they could go on, but it's not exactly the mood she wants his camera to immortalize. not even the mood she wants to linger in for too long. she spends more than enough of her own time feeling shitty about her shortcomings, she's definitely not looking to mar her time with peter by doing the same thing.

so she endeavors to focus on the other thing instead. maybe he's just joking, but that he's assuming the two of them would still have feelings for each other even in another universe brings a small smile to her lips, a giddy little thing she has to consciously keep at bay. it's sweet — more than sweet, actually, but right now she can't even begin to articulate how much it really means to her (or rather, she probably can, if she let herself think about it long enough, but a part of her is afraid of what she might find at the end of that road, of what it would mean for the both of them once she can no longer pretend not to notice it).

she rolls onto her side to face him, letting their hands get trapped between the small space she allows between them. inching close enough till their foreheads press again and she can breathe in the soap still lingering on his skin. ]

I have to hope there's some iteration of us that's got their shit together. Bet they're celebrating some cute anniversary or something. Dinner, moonlit walk, some really nasty sex.

I like that your idea of a cute anniversary date includes a filthy ending.

[he isn't joking, not in the least. he knows that given the proper opportunity, there's no doubt that at least one other peter parker out there in the multiverse who feels at least something of what he does. how could he not?

not that he needs the confirmation. the only thing that matters is this universe and this kate. the one he's lucky enough to have in his life. peter shifts closer, tangling their legs together. there. that's better]

But even if there isn't another us, that's okay, because we got our shit together and I want those things with you. All of them.

[he grins and it's sweet. so sweet as he looks at her like she's the only woman in the world until it shifts as it does so easily between them.] If you want to buy me flowers and take me out on a fancy date, I promise I'll put out at the end of the night.

Whatever nasty things you feel like doing. I'm game.

[ kate merely smiles innocently, punctuating it with a small shrug of her shoulders. she likes what she likes, and apparently that runs the gamut of romantic dinners and a night of vigorous passion. of course it helps that she's got someone she actually wants to do all those things with, things she never really thought she'd be all that into. anniversaries, even for things as mundane as their first meeting, their first op together — who would've thought? kate had never considered herself particularly sentimental or romantic, but then again her relationships tend to be fraught with a myriad of other issues (mostly kate not having her own shit together) so this thin with peter... it's as much a miracle as it is a big breath of relief. ]

That easy, huh? [ she bites down on her lip, but it does nothing to dim the brightness of her grin as she inches closer still, slipping a bare leg further up along his to nestle comfortable between his thighs. ] Don't worry, I won't lose my respect for you.

[ she quiets for a couple of seconds, letting the moment just kind of settle. listening to his breath so close to her own. ]

I want all those things too.

[ all those things and more, but is it okay to say it yet? she wants a box of her own, a frame on his shelf, a spot on his fridge under the spidey magnet that's meant to look like one of his webs. she wants so much, wants — his future.

how terrifying. ]

Nasty or not.

I'd hope not.

[he breathes out, shallowly as they tangle even more closely together both physically and emotionally. peter's always given his heart out fully, without reservation even when he's been terrified in equal measure. oh and isn't it scary just how much he wants those milestones with her, wants them for the foreseeable future. he can see her boots taking up space next to his scuffed up sneakers, wants to celebrate birthdays, holidays, and gosh if his family were still alive, he'd like to bring her home.

aunt may would've loved her. most of the time he feels like he's already halfway there himself.]

I'm serious about us. [it's an earnest comment, no exaggerations, accompanied by a kiss pressed to the corner of her mouth.]

Toothbrush serious. Closet space serious. [a few more seconds pass and then he adds because it feels like the right thing, to want her here as much as she wants as she pleases as long as she wants to keep him around.] Spare key serious.

[ kate has faced supervillains, stared down psychopaths and killers, even called out captain america to his perfect supersoldier face. but turns out? true terror is staring at the thing you want most in the world, ready for you to take it, but all you can wonder is if your reverse midas touch won't fuck that up too.

(she'd joked with clint once, on the rare occasion they were both feeling like absolute shits, that it was a hawkeye curse. suddenly it's not so funny anymore.)

for a second there, kate almost does it. almost pulls back like she hadn't been barreling full speed ahead this whole time. it's a stupid reflex, to cower away from something too good, all because of one tiny voice that has no business being listened to in the first place.

peter wants her. and she wants him. he deserves the world, but she has to believe she can give him something close to that. right? otherwise what the fuck is she even doing, holding him like this, making him smile at her like that, daring to wish for more? ]

Really?

[ she grips his shirt with her free hand, grounds herself so she doesn't do something stupid like bolt. woman up, katie kate. you absolute disaster. ]

Me too.

[ and she is. she's young and stupid and so, so out of her depth when it comes to this stuff but he's been so patient. so good. if she has to spend the next however long to be just as good back, so be it. (but god she hopes it doesn't take that long.)

what else is there to do now but kiss him again? kiss him like she means it, surging forward to bruise his lips red and raw. it's relief and excitement and that sun-bursting warm she always feels when she kisses him, the kind that's hard to stop so she doesn't.

of course, just as she starts to roll them over, pull him on top of her so she can feel surrounded by his weight and his scent — the buzzer buzzes. pizza's here. ]

...We've got to work on your timing, Parker.

[at first he just nods ever so slightly, almost like he can't believe he's just laid it all out there, like he's preteen peter parker confessing his first crush — all sweaty palms and nerves galore. then she says those two little words that make him feel like he's basking in the warmth of a summer day, reaffirms their mutual feelings, and the nod gets more vigorous, up down up down like a bobble head between the breaths he steals as she kisses him.

yes. good. this is great. he could so easily get lost in this feeling for the rest of his days, which he does, arms shifting to cradle her face as she maneuvers them over. his hips just barely make contact with hers as the buzzer drags them out of their own private hideaway.

peter groans as he rolls off her and back onto his feet.]

My timing? Like I have any control over the delivery guy.

[he licks his lips as he takes in her kiss bruised lips. grabs the camera really quickly and snaps another photo before lifting his finger in the universal sign that says "one second".]

I'll be right back.

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