peterparker | ❧ INBOX || IC/OOC Contact

Yeah, sure... I've got a couple of jobs already. I'm all set.

[Surprised, Mr. Stacy? He's industrious; you don't sneak into Oscorp on charm alone.

But what's all this about a self-help group...?]

Agree to meet with some friends...? ~~What kind of friends? The kind that wear fedoras???~~

No offense meant, but I'm not sure I need any help just right now.

...Oh? can I ask where?

Family who might be willing to offer you a place to live Peter.

Aah, with the Search & Rescue squad.

And a few part-times, doing photography and fixing things up.

[He writes this part before reading the rest of George Stacy's message. Maybe he's a little bit proud of the progress he's made, what he's been able to accomplish since arriving here. Maybe he wants this guy to have to own up to the fact that he did a good job; that he was a diligent student, a hard worker and someone who law enforcement could trust and use.

Not dangerous. Not some kind of slum-gum that you get on your shoes getting off the F Train.

But then the Captain is saying family and a place to live and he doesn't want to be-- but Peter gets angry. Irrationally, totally furious.

Two things became seriously obvious to him, upon reading the latter half of that message.

Thing 1: That this guy's been shopping around for someone to dump him off on, like he was a puppy that just needed a good home. It was a little insulting; family? He had a family already. They were mostly gone back at home, too, so while adjusting to the loss of Aunt May was tough, stand-ins weren't going to be any kind of comforting.

Thing 2: That however much Mr. Stacy talked the talk about 'checking in' and 'taking care of your own', he viewed Peter as a problem and he wasn't going to be his problem. He wasn't going to 'take care' of anything. Not that Peter wanted or expected a helping hand... but he wasn't quite ready to say 'gee, thanks for the silent auction, Mr. Stacy!' either.

When he's able to calm down enough to type, he finishes the email and sends it, twenty minutes later.]

Thanks for the charity.

But I have a family already. I don't need a loan.

[George balks at that. Kindness, it was a kindness and he did not want to let the boy go. He was from New York, he was Gwen's friend (and why not just own upto it?) Gwen would never forgive him.]

[...He hated that then. He hated the boy and he hated him with a firey burning...hateful feeling in his gut that rolled up his insides. However he had to try. which is why the feed switches to video.]

I didn't mean to phrase it like that Peter. No one can replace your family-I've been asking around and this isn't a safe place for kids. No matter what they can do.

Apparently there are monsters out there and worse.

[All of this is said-except George Stacey looks sick, gray tinged skin and beads of sweat across the brow.]

Now is not the time to be proud.

[Ah, jeez.

He's still pretty upset-- upset now, that gut-wrenching blend of just angry enough to feel hot and look flushed but just sad enough to have trouble remembering the words that fury so easily supplied, replaced by a cold sweat.

So yeah, 'ah, jeez'. Ah, jeez because the guy just had to go and switch on the video function...

Peter does the same, reluctantly, and he's there with furrowed brows and an open, drawn mouth. He doesn't look ill like George does, but he's on the street and he looks... upset. Didn't we just cover that?

He's trying not to, though. Really.

This is Gwen's father. He's never going to make a good impression, but-- he'll always come just shy of totally losing his temper, with someone so important to her.]

Right... monsters and worse. Got it.

I'll keep a look out, guaranteed. While I'm searching and definitely while I'm rescuing.

...And if you need any help, you know who to call.

[Unless you're too proud, yourself, that is.]

Edited 2012-07-24 06:21 (UTC)

...Excuse me? Who I need to call? [George was sitting at a table when he spoke and something inside him snaps.

It's subtle.

A twitch across his features and George's face contorts in pain as a spasm of something rolls up through his body. Then he's on his feet-too fast-hands planted on the table digging into the wood.]

Let me tell you something you little shit, I was out there serving and protecting while you were still farting in your fucking sandbox so the next time you think you know better then me [there's an emphasis on the word better. It does not sound human. The next words sound even less normal.] I will rip out your spine and beat you over the head with it!

[He growls-deep in his chest-and something falls off the table near him and George jumps back.

the camera shifts, flopping and there's a minute or so before George comes back...looking utterly horrified.

What came over him.

His heart is pounding, skin...weird. Cold and clammy. There is something in his eyes that Peter Parker might have never seen before.

Fear.

And an apologetic look.]

...I'm...I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. [Help me. That's what he wants to say but Peter is a child, and he's not a cop. That was just...]

I had no right to yell at you like that.

[There were probably nicer ways of reminding him that in a world with monsters 'and worse', one of them was more effective than the other. That being a cop didn't train you for the uncommon the way that walking around in downtown Queens did past 8pm without a gun on your holster; only a pay-as-you-go phone . That being afraid for your daughter didn't qualify someone to know what it was really like to lose a family member in cold blood and to do anything to prevent it from happening again. That being the man of the house didn't mean you could fly, fight and flip the way that teenager with the insect bite could.

Maybe it didn't sound very fair, from where Mr. Stacy was standing. And Peter could have put it better. But it didn't make it any less sincere, any less true.

If they needed his help, he'd help. Not 'cause of some moral creed that said he had to... but because he wanted to.

Because he knew at least that much about responsibility; you protect what you love as best you can, as long as you can. Because it's right.

He's not the most eloquent, okay. He's even kind of a sarcastic jerk. But wow-- Gwen's dad just took the cake.

Regardless of what he'd said, a reaction like that? It belied something a lot deeper, almost more animal than hate. It reminded him of Dr. Connors.

Again, something shot through every heightened sense in his body. Danger. (And it wasn't just the death threats cluing him in, thanks.)

It's a full half-minute after Mr. Stacy picks the phone back up that Peter finds his voice. It's shaky when he does and he looks pretty much in-shock.]

...I didn't have a sandbox.

Sorry to disappoint, Sir.

Edited 2012-07-24 06:46 (UTC)

[George sat down-gently. The chair was bent out of shape at the top and there are faint marks in the wood but he looks horrified.]

...Neither did Gwen.

[the weakest of laughs. He looks lost, horrified still.]

Peter...you're...

[And then he just sounds lost.]

I took an oath Peter. "I swear to faithfully discharge the duties of police captain, to serve, protect and defend the citizens and constitution of the state of New York."

I didn't expect to see either you or Gwen again, I made the sacrifice knowing what it meant but that's all I have. I can't...just leave you to be on your own Peter.

[It's said from the heart.]

You're from home. But god-what you do it's going to get you killed, it would get Gwen killed. That's reason.

[His head rolled.] ...I don't know why I reacted like that. Must be something I'm allergic to.

[He's going to keep this short and sweet because he's not one for talking about what's going on in his life, much less how he feels. Even with Uncle Ben-- he was the talker, Peter just listened.

As much as Mr. Stacy talked, he'd lost his audience. Hypocrisy has that effect; future speech notes to jot down.]

Only thing that's threatened to kill me since getting here s'been you, Mr. Stacy.

[Spoken calmly, but seriously. He's going to be mature here, even as he's looking down at his feet, making a face and adjusting his bag's strap a little. Maturity is usually his least favourite option, but he's not seeing any runners up at the moment, so...]

I'm fine. Thanks. Just pretend I'm from Connecticut or something.

[...Though now he's really making a face.]

[Why does it feel like he's been slapped? There's something about Peter that makes him sick to his stomach. It's painful, eyes closed tight. Lips pressed together painful.

Something in the water. Something in the air. That was it. Dr. Conners you did your work well and the mist wants him alive.]

Good. yes. fine. you do that. Saves me the trouble from having to worry about dragging two helpless teenagers through this hellhole I...

[Rolling levels of rage. George Stacey breaths hard and fast before opening his eyes to glare angrily at the camera...and it vanishes. And returns. And vanishes. And returns and his pupils are larger then they should be...

And it's gone.

The NYPD would be proud. Of how one of their own is fighting.]

...You're Gwen's friend and there are monsters out there. Just stay alive.

I'm Gwen's boyfriend.

[He's not helpless, he's not trouble and he's not a 'friend'.

The correction comes quickly. He really shouldn't be pressing topics right now, he knows, but...

Hey. In this guy's book, he and Gwen couldn't be friends. So he should at least get the terminology right on what he was trying to stem.

Looking down, growing sheepish after that statement, Peter heaves a sigh and makes a face like he just swallowed car oil.

Okay, okay. Appeasement.]

...I'll meet your friends. But that's it.

Edited 2012-07-24 07:17 (UTC)

[George hesitates]

...that's good. Good. Thank you. Yes. I'll...find out their schedules. We'll set up something.

[he pauses] You like science right?

[Now there's a random, rapid change of topics.

Head still bowed, he glanced up and squinted.

It was on the tip of his tongue, the reminder that he and Gwen went to the same science school, but he decides he only likes to be called a dislikable orphan brat once per day, thanks and instead goes with--]

Yeah, mhm. Yes.

I do.

...Is it possible...for somebody to...be allergic to things that they've never encountered before? Like...something that's in it-maybe it has something in common with something else...and then they get sick even if they've never seen it?

[he's allergic to you Peter. There's no help for it.]

...Yeah, 'course. That's how a lot of people find out they have allergies. Try something for the first time and their face, throat swells up, bumps, rashes...

You having a reaction to something?

[ahyafjafaggj darnit, stop being allergic to talented, upstanding young men, George.]

[SPIDERS DUDE. HE'S ALL ABOUT BEING SCURRED OF SPIDERS OHK ERMEGAD.]

....Whatever the doctor did when I arrived. [Yes that must be the reason for the patch of scaley skin over his wound.] ...that's got to be it. Left me with one of those rashes.

[His eyes narrow, but he's calming down now.] What about...being sick to your stomach and being.. well having, having weird emotions. Weird emotional reactions.

Edited 2012-07-24 07:33 (UTC)

[Peter assures that Spiders are only scary first thing in the morning, before their Wheaties and mid bed-head. Aunt May can attest.]

Still-? Er, the rash should have gone down by now. If it was a reaction, I mean. You'd be okay now, unless it's an infection, but then you'd have a fever-- probably.

[He's rambling to cover up how uniquely uncomfortable it is to be feelings coaching the guy who just promised to beat your skull in with your newly-freed vertebrae, but okay.

George Stacy is trying to get emotional advice. From Peter Parker.

Stranger things hadn't happened and short of telling the guy to start an 'Anger Management 101' class, he's at a loss.

Filler. He needed filler.]

Stomach thing, maybe it was all the fish. You were pretty hungry when you got here...

Emotional reactions, uh. Stress. Post-Trauma. Ice capade-ians.

Seem to be your leading causes, anyway. [You're welcome.]

You're a regular doctor Parker. Genius.. [These are all plausible things however. and he visibly relaxes.]

...Hey. Don't knock fish. Fish is pretty good. [He has been eating a lot lately, but working it all off rather quickly.] And I just died, I think a welcome back meal would be in order although it wasn't hot wings.

Forget donuts. Every cop at my precinct lived at Wings in things. update your book of insults kid.

You're a headache and a half, but I'm glad you're making the right decision to at least consider meeting Mr. and Mrs. Stark. Mr. Stark works for the police too.

[This is what he gets for trying to help. Backstory, an eyeroll and shoulder pats.

At least the consolation prize is that this conversation has to be over and it's gotta be a mutual relief that they won't need to be having another one...

That is until he hears the name 'Mr Stark'.]

Mr. Stark? Tony Stark?

[Because regardless of if he wants to be pawned off or not, that was a pretty big name in New York. Peter could almost get behind a quick meeting with a genius billionaire, to appease Gwen's father.]

[...um. stare.]

...No. They might be related? Stark's here? I know his CEO is. Friends of mine. Ed Stark and his wife.

[all the frowning.] ...Tony Stark's CEO is here. You can meet her too I suppose. See that's what, being a cop is about. Making friends. She met Gwen.

[Because George will always condescend, and there is no more condescending statement.]

[Peter doesn't bother to hide the roll of his eyes.

Being a cop is about meeting as many Midtowners as possible and then rubbing it in the face of every Alphabet City-ite you threatened to end? Okay, guy.]

Ed Stark. Got it.

So where am I meeting him-?

[Focus, George, focus.]

I'll let you know.

Thanks again Peter.

Yeah, you're uh-- welcome.

[A nod. Whenever is fine. Later is better than sooner.

With that an an awkward wave, he hangs up.]

❧ INBOX || IC/OOC Contact

[GEE, THAT MAKES IT almost BETTER.]

IT WILL BE GLORIOUS THEY WILL TEACH YOU ABOUT HONOR AND HE'LL MARRY YOU OFF.

OH GOD, HE SUDDENLY KNOWS WHAT MULAN FEELS LIKE.

[/ D E A D]

/violins EVERYWHERE.

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sorry for the delay!