[ Peter manages to flip onto the car speeding at him at the last minute and hangs on for a bit before having to take off, bullets being fired through the roof. He goes after the car and tries to tie it up with his webbing, attempting to stop the damn thing. He manages to stop the car but the guys in it leave it before he can stop them.
Following after them next is the only logical thing to do. ]
[Tires squeal and it's a wreck of noise. Matt is steps behind. It seems like he's at a disadvantage until the criminals are charging right his way. Billy club in hand, he charges. It doesn't matter to him if they have guns.]
[ Peter joins Matt only seconds afterward, jumping into the fray and taking one of the guys out of the fight. Peter crushes his gun and webs him to the wall. When it looks like one of them might shoot Matt, he's quick to clog it up with more webbing. ]
[Another pair of hands and feet is welcomed. Not necessary though, the crooks are relying too much on the heat they are packing. Finally, finally it comes to swings. Matt's got them where he wants them.]
There you are.
[As he flings the now useless, web clogged gun away. It's like he isn't even aware that he was in any danger.]
[His chest rises and falls. His tactics are brutal, fists and kicks. What do you expect from the Devil of Hell's Kitchen? One of the guns lay at his feet and he crouches to remove the magazine just in case.]
You're in my neighborhood, I'm not going to ignore it.
[ It wasn't his first time coming to a club like this. There were quite a few in Queens if someone knew where to look. But he had never tried to pick anyone up. He just kinda... watched. Got a drink and stuck to himself. He had had a few older men send him drinks and flirt with him but he would always get so tongue-tied. He wouldn't know what to do or say so he just embarrassed himself until they walked away. Sometimes rolling their eyes and other times laughing at him.
Peter honestly did know why he kept going other than the fact he knew he felt... better being there. He felt so awkward around girls and had even less of an idea what to do around them.
He was wondering if he should even keep bothering when, on that same night, Peter saw him as he walked in with a few other guys. They were laughing and shoving each other around, going right for the bar. Someone near him said "Italians" and Peter couldn't keep himself from staring at one in particular. There was just something about the way he smiled...
But then his eyes met Peter's and Peter immediately looked away, wanting to slide down in his seat and hide under the table. Good job, Parker. ]
[Go out, his friend said. It'd be a good time, he said. Well. Here he is. And nerves are coming out in smiles and laughs. And every time he starts to feel apprehensive, there's another drink in his hand. Frank is feeling good, insanely good tonight. Who would have guessed there'd be places like this? The city was much, much better than the farm.
Young, Italian and out on his own. And here surrounded by others who share the love that they dare not speak of in polite company. The shirt he owns is pressed. His hair is slicked back and his face is shaven. No dames here to get the wrong idea. Frank scans the room. A pair of bright eyes meet his. The look away was not taken as a negative signal. He's trying to move is way closer.]
[ Peter glances over again and immediately regrets it. Oh fuck. He's coming over. He slouches down some in his seat before picking up his drink and scooting back up. He's chugging it like he never has before and voices near him are snickering.
"Oh, the little lamb is nervous."
He sets his glass down, empty now and wishing he could say a few Hail Marys but he remembers he doesn't even know how to do that. Shit. ]
[Look alive Bright Eyes. The glass isn't the only thing that's empty. Frank settles in the seat next to him. He's larger. Body hardened from hard labor. Not exactly what you'd find on the daily in Queens. The gaffaws and whispers are still going. Mario comes around and barrels his way to be a distraction.
"Let the guy up to bat on his own without the peanut gallery. Mind your own business you vultures." He gives gives his pal a hard thump on the shoulder before stepping back. The coast is clear.]
[ Peter feels his cheeks flush at the scene, swallowing hard as the guy was definitely bigger up close. He glances at Mario, both embarrassed and grateful. He looks back to Frank and then his glass before giving a shrug, ]
[Mario gives him a wink and a nod. No matter how the night goes, he wants Frank to have his chance. This secret hole in the wall was not easy to find. Gotta make it worth it.]
Coke's good all by itself. Never thought to put rum with it. I've been a beer guy all my life but uh...
[He gives a lopsided smile and takes a sip from his own glass.]
I'm trying things. Things I should have a long time ago. If it feels right, it feels right.
[While they're two strangers talking about drinks his dark eyes keep on looking over Peter. There's a different subject here.]
[ As a squire, Peter's obligations were many most days. Scrubbing and polishing armor, carrying said armor and weapons to and fro. Tending to the knights and even lords should they want to try their hand at a joust or duel. He ran errands, occasionally for the ladies of the court if they came to him with a special request. Mostly those were to be kept secret. He tended to the dogs, the horses, and even to prisoners when given the task.
He much preferred tending the horses with the stable hand named Francis. In fact, there was no doubt he was the one Peter felt the closest to. Ever since coming to this castle, Frank had been the one to be kind to him, teach him the ins and outs better than anyone else. Most of what he knew, he could attribute to the older man. Some said he was a soldier from the crusades and others still said he had had a wife and child once. Peter had been curious, of course. But in all his years, he never dared ask.
Most days he was fairly busy, anyway. But some days, some days, they are his own to do with what he wants and he does just that. Grabbing some food from the kitchens and stuffing his bag before rushing off to the stables. Sometimes running along the edge of a wall and jumping down onto the roof. Bow and arrows on his back, he saddles up one of his favorite horses and takes off.
He doesn't even alert Frank to this until he's blowing past him with a, ]
[Life at the keep was predictable. Sunrise meant the start of a new day. Horses to groom. Stables to clean. Fields to mind. Fences to mend. He could bury his mind in the toil. It was very rare that he could smell the scent of rotted flesh aside from what prey a cat could bring in. Most of the company was the animals. They never asked questions. They never talked back. They'd never ask what moods meant. Brilliant, intuitive beasts.
Francis wished he could be like them. Instead he was made a man. And age had made him hardened. It was tradition to take on a squire. In concept he had never wanted one. Ever. That meant a disruption of his new found harmony. Except when he saw the thin, wide eyed waif he knew it was impossible to turn him away. Just another creature come here to this place to find a thing without words. The boy listened and minded. To call him a boy is unfair now. He's grown taller, stronger and smarter. Still no questions come out. Something about him appeals to all kinds. The brash and hauty destriers and the lean and fickle mares respond to him just as much as the lords and ladies do.
This particular morning has the fog rising up from the moors and the air smelling wet. The daylight will burn it away in no time. At first light it is always hanging with mystery and stillness. Which is why it is very noticable that one horse charges past him.]
...again?!
[The lord knows where he goes. And this day he decides that he shall find out as well. Not bothering to put on a coat or even saddle up the mare he'd been brushing, Frank mounts and urges her to follow, using her hair as reigns.]
[ Peter had always been fairly quiet. Until he befriended someone. And then it was hard to stop him talking. Yet he didn't mind the silences that would happen with him and Frank. There was something comforting in them. Calming, even. But he did feel quite a bit of pride at getting the other man to talk more than anyone else seemed to.
Which is why he just laughs at Frank's words, continuing in his flight. He goes to the forests and there is when he takes his bow and starts to fire arrows into trees. Specific ones that have worn marks form other arrows on other days. He always retrieves them on the way back. But the practice is important. Sir Barton had taught him that from day one. ]
[For all the talking he liked to do, he knew when to expect an answer. Frank didn't mind. A lack of questions didn't always mean silence. There was a narrative going. A little like Peter was having a conversation where the replies were in different silences. They all meant different things.
A ways behind and with the curtain of mist separating them, Frank sinks low against the mare's torso. He can hear the sound of a bow knocking and pulling. An archer? Here? Instincts long out of use make him slow his horse to watch. Except all he hears is the bow and a familiar tread of a reliable workhorse.
Is it--? He stills again and the mare paws and pants. Yes. It's only Peter. Well. Frank smiles to himself and shakes his head.]
[ It's between arrows that Peter hears the voice and he starts, having not expected it. Normally, Frank doesn't follow him. He looks over, barely able to make him out in the mist. ]
[ It's always been a bit frustrating for Peter to be small in his wolf form. He's strong enough in both forms but it was always embarrassing when most of the other wolves he knew were larger than him. So, he's done what he can to increase his speed and agility, instead.
Which he's getting to show off now for the older wolf, taking off up a hill and then leaping off and onto logs and boulders before hitting the grass again. A grey and red wisp of a wolf, tongue lolling out and moving almost like a large fox would. ]
[By no surprise at all, Frank is dark and husky in his second skin. Fur is dense and power is his typical advantage. He does not have the gift of speed but has taught himself endurance. That's how he is able to keep up. Peter is spry, and all of his enthusiasm and physicality carries right through to now. And while he shouldn't be surprised he's fast, he is very fast and it is impressive.
A ruff snuffling short bark is a sign of appreciation. Fore paws pad and he makes a fake start forward, trying to engage him in a wrestle.]
[ Peter leaps back, front legs outstretched on the ground and butt up with his tail wagging. He gives a yip in response before he's jumping forward. He's wrestled with Tony and Steve enough to know the start when he sees it. He's never gotten to do that with Frank, however.
That makes him excited and happy.
His paws and limbs are smaller but his flailing and nips at the other wolf is playful. ]
[Another snort and pawing before he leaps at Peter. Being light on his feet is not exactly something he can do well. He still prances and evades a nip. Hanging back just enough to get Peter closer before he dashes close and gets a tuft of his shoulder in his jaw. Gentle, no puncture. Just holding. The rumbling growl is so light and buoyant. Nothing at all malicious about it.
[ Peter ends up rolling onto the ground on his back, kicking in the air, tail still wagging and making a variety of happy gurgling and barking noises. He noses and nips at Frank's legs and tail when he can get close. He's then jumping back up and flops his upper half onto the other wolf's back, trying to get him down on the ground. ]
[Whoops. Whoops. Look out now. All the back and forth and he's turning too fast to try and take a friendly nip at Peter. It makes him topple. The yelp after is in surprise. Okay. No harm. Everything's fine. Some of the grass and leaves get kicked up. Gentle clamp of toothy mouths on Peter's legs.
tfln - fightlikehell
[ Peter manages to flip onto the car speeding at him at the last minute and hangs on for a bit before having to take off, bullets being fired through the roof. He goes after the car and tries to tie it up with his webbing, attempting to stop the damn thing. He manages to stop the car but the guys in it leave it before he can stop them.
Following after them next is the only logical thing to do. ]
no subject
no subject
no subject
There you are.
[As he flings the now useless, web clogged gun away. It's like he isn't even aware that he was in any danger.]
/hits this up years later lmao
Once the last guy drops, out cold, Peter is standing there, his arms cross in front of him. ]
You didn't need to come. I had it under control.
wowwowow
You're in my neighborhood, I'm not going to ignore it.
[Matt tosses Peter the clip of bullets.]
surprise bish
Technically I wasn't. I just kinda... swung into it last minute.
[ He even gestures the swinging motion with one arm as he says it. ]
thought i seen the last of you!? neverrr
for endlesswar | come what may
Peter honestly did know why he kept going other than the fact he knew he felt... better being there. He felt so awkward around girls and had even less of an idea what to do around them.
He was wondering if he should even keep bothering when, on that same night, Peter saw him as he walked in with a few other guys. They were laughing and shoving each other around, going right for the bar. Someone near him said "Italians" and Peter couldn't keep himself from staring at one in particular. There was just something about the way he smiled...
But then his eyes met Peter's and Peter immediately looked away, wanting to slide down in his seat and hide under the table. Good job, Parker. ]
no subject
Young, Italian and out on his own. And here surrounded by others who share the love that they dare not speak of in polite company. The shirt he owns is pressed. His hair is slicked back and his face is shaven. No dames here to get the wrong idea. Frank scans the room. A pair of bright eyes meet his. The look away was not taken as a negative signal. He's trying to move is way closer.]
no subject
"Oh, the little lamb is nervous."
He sets his glass down, empty now and wishing he could say a few Hail Marys but he remembers he doesn't even know how to do that. Shit. ]
no subject
"Let the guy up to bat on his own without the peanut gallery. Mind your own business you vultures." He gives gives his pal a hard thump on the shoulder before stepping back. The coast is clear.]
What're you drinking there?
no subject
Rum and coke. Not really a fan of the beer.
no subject
Coke's good all by itself. Never thought to put rum with it. I've been a beer guy all my life but uh...
[He gives a lopsided smile and takes a sip from his own glass.]
I'm trying things. Things I should have a long time ago. If it feels right, it feels right.
[While they're two strangers talking about drinks his dark eyes keep on looking over Peter. There's a different subject here.]
(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)
(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)
(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)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
for endlesswar | king and lionheart
He much preferred tending the horses with the stable hand named Francis. In fact, there was no doubt he was the one Peter felt the closest to. Ever since coming to this castle, Frank had been the one to be kind to him, teach him the ins and outs better than anyone else. Most of what he knew, he could attribute to the older man. Some said he was a soldier from the crusades and others still said he had had a wife and child once. Peter had been curious, of course. But in all his years, he never dared ask.
Most days he was fairly busy, anyway. But some days, some days, they are his own to do with what he wants and he does just that. Grabbing some food from the kitchens and stuffing his bag before rushing off to the stables. Sometimes running along the edge of a wall and jumping down onto the roof. Bow and arrows on his back, he saddles up one of his favorite horses and takes off.
He doesn't even alert Frank to this until he's blowing past him with a, ]
See you later!
no subject
Francis wished he could be like them. Instead he was made a man. And age had made him hardened. It was tradition to take on a squire. In concept he had never wanted one. Ever. That meant a disruption of his new found harmony. Except when he saw the thin, wide eyed waif he knew it was impossible to turn him away. Just another creature come here to this place to find a thing without words. The boy listened and minded. To call him a boy is unfair now. He's grown taller, stronger and smarter. Still no questions come out. Something about him appeals to all kinds. The brash and hauty destriers and the lean and fickle mares respond to him just as much as the lords and ladies do.
This particular morning has the fog rising up from the moors and the air smelling wet. The daylight will burn it away in no time. At first light it is always hanging with mystery and stillness. Which is why it is very noticable that one horse charges past him.]
...again?!
[The lord knows where he goes. And this day he decides that he shall find out as well. Not bothering to put on a coat or even saddle up the mare he'd been brushing, Frank mounts and urges her to follow, using her hair as reigns.]
no subject
Which is why he just laughs at Frank's words, continuing in his flight. He goes to the forests and there is when he takes his bow and starts to fire arrows into trees. Specific ones that have worn marks form other arrows on other days. He always retrieves them on the way back. But the practice is important. Sir Barton had taught him that from day one. ]
no subject
A ways behind and with the curtain of mist separating them, Frank sinks low against the mare's torso. He can hear the sound of a bow knocking and pulling. An archer? Here? Instincts long out of use make him slow his horse to watch. Except all he hears is the bow and a familiar tread of a reliable workhorse.
Is it--? He stills again and the mare paws and pants. Yes. It's only Peter. Well. Frank smiles to himself and shakes his head.]
Playing soldier?
no subject
What are you doing out here?
no subject
I could ask the same.
[He comes closer, the run loosened his hair.]
(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)
(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)
werewolf au | for endless war
[ It's always been a bit frustrating for Peter to be small in his wolf form. He's strong enough in both forms but it was always embarrassing when most of the other wolves he knew were larger than him. So, he's done what he can to increase his speed and agility, instead.
Which he's getting to show off now for the older wolf, taking off up a hill and then leaping off and onto logs and boulders before hitting the grass again. A grey and red wisp of a wolf, tongue lolling out and moving almost like a large fox would. ]
no subject
A ruff snuffling short bark is a sign of appreciation. Fore paws pad and he makes a fake start forward, trying to engage him in a wrestle.]
no subject
That makes him excited and happy.
His paws and limbs are smaller but his flailing and nips at the other wolf is playful. ]
no subject
The last time he played he had pups.]
no subject
no subject
Frank's tail is actually wagging a little.]
(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)
(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)
(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)
(no subject)