Now you're right beneath my feet, but still within my reach

[stepsonbutterflies]

He wanted an escape, an exit, a way out. Peter had screwed up everything so thoroughly that he couldn’t muddle his way out, at least not now. He needed a break from string theory, consequences, reactions and responsibilities. He couldn’t go back to before he’d messed things up, not until he had a solution because the potential for screwing things up further was too high. He needed to go somewhere fresh, somewhere he hadn’t touched to focus on how he could fix his timeline. Peter took a deep breath, closed his eyes and used Hiro’s teleportation.

When he opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was. It felt different from what he was accustomed to. It looked different and it certainly wasn’t torn up from a virus or an explosion. That was an improvement in and of itself. He took a step forward, glancing around for clues to where he was. Honestly, he didn’t really care where he was. It was a case of ‘anywhere but there’. This wasn’t there. It worked for him.

Comments

[no_substitution]

"You will." She nodded like it was decided, and her hand twitched again like she wanted to touch the scar again. It was fascinating, in the way that you keep constantly running your tongue over the hole where teeth used to be.

Instead she tugged at the hem of her shirt, stepping back to display a swath of perfectly tan skin marred by a huge puckered scar just under her rib cage that seemed to resemble what the aftermath of being impaled would look like. Arching her eyebrows, the shirt shifts higher, exposing the lime green lace of her bra and the ten inch scar on her chest from her heart surgery when she was a baby. "Scars aren't so bad."

[stepsonbutterflies]

Peter's brow furrowed, puckering the scar slightly as he takes a step closer to her. He got distracted momentarily by the lime green, lace bra, but returns to the scar on her chest. As a nurse, he'd seen enough of those scars to know what it was from. His eyes drifted back down to the scar below her ribcage more out of politeness than anything. His fingers reached out of their own accord, tracing the scar there lightly.

"It depends on how you got the scar."

[no_substitution]

"I was impaled by my own stake." She didn't seem to bothered by the idea though, as if she had just accepted it long ago. Which was true -- it had been almost ten years since she was called. She leaned in, forcing Peter touch the scar, and her, more firmly. Her deep brown eyes sparkled. "Do you want to do know a secret, Peter?" Mm, she liked his name, the way it rolled off her tongue like raindrops slipping between her fingers.

[stepsonbutterflies]

"You...were impaled by your own stake." It wasn't a question, just a reconfirmation of her words. That had to have a story behind it, but it probably wasn't a pretty one. She leaned toward him, his fingers prodding at the scar until his entire palm is covering it.

At her words, he met her eyes. His lips parted and he wanted to tell her that he wanted to know all of her secrets if only she'd keep looking at him like that, letting him touch her, letting him listen to the way her voice slid across his name. Instead, he simply nodded. Yes, he wanted to know a secret.

[no_substitution]

Sassy leaned in closer, arm lifting to curl around his neck to tug him down a little so her melodic voice could whisper in his ear. His hand on her skin was so warm and firm, capable, it made goosebumps sprout of her arms. "That was the first time I died."

[stepsonbutterflies]

His first instinct was to pull away when she leaned into him and curled her arm around his neck, but she was warm and sweet and surely it couldn't hurt anything, right? He allowed her to tug him down, goosebumps racing over his own skin at the sensation of her breath against his ear. At first, her words didn't even register, he was still caught up in the smell and the feel of her. When they finally did, he huffed out a little sort of chuckle.

"Most people only do it once."

Except that he'd died countless times, over and over again only to come back to life. He knew a now brunette that wanted him dead that had died more times than anyone could count. If they were both possible then didn't it stand to reason that Sassy was as well?

[no_substitution]

"I get bored a lot." As if that were the reason she died, often. Gently, she released him from her grasp, but she didn't pull away, standing there on her tip toes, pressed against his chest. He was solid. Warm and firm, he smells like spices and sweat. It made her a little dizzy after a moment and she unceremoniously dropped off her toes, stumbling back a bit.

[stepsonbutterflies]

He looked down at her, unwilling to move away but not sure what was going on. "You need another hobby."

His voice was quiet when he said it, more like he was offering rather than suggesting.

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[no_substitution]

Technically she had another hobby -- a job actually, but she was CEO, so she didn't actually do anything. Kind of like a tiny, early twenties, immortal Tony Stark. Who was also a slayer...

Vaguely similar.

But she was still willing to go with it, lips sliding into a small smirk. "What kind of hobby?" And before he could even answer, she added: "Do you want to come home with me? I'm making spaghetti and by making I mean I'm opening a can of spaghetti-o's and eating it right out of the can. But this place is pretty dead, so..."

[stepsonbutterflies]

As far as comparisons go, it was a good one and a good job to have.

He'd been going to suggest the first thing that had come to his head like gardening or volunteer work or knitting, but she'd sidetracked him by asking him to come home with her.

"Do you often invite strange men you meet in cemeteries home?"

That was a yes. In case she was wondering.

[no_substitution]

"Usually they're dead." Her smirk deepened with humor, turning it back into a smile as she closed the tiny space between him and her small hand lifted to take his. "So no, you're pretty special."

[stepsonbutterflies]

"I can see how I'd hold a certain appeal then," he smirked in response, continuing the rather macabre humor. He puts his hand in hers, uncertain even why he's doing it.

"In that case, I'd love to be taken home."

[no_substitution]

"Good." She nodded firmly, happy with his answer, and started to lead the way out of the cometary and toward the street.

[stepsonbutterflies]

He followed her without any real idea of why he was following her. He wasn't usually so trusting, so willing to put himself out there, but Sassy was very persuasive.

"Is it far?"

[no_substitution]

Shaking her head no, she stops a few feet outside the gates of the cometary and points to the building (a hotel) across the street. "It's right there."

Easy access to baby vamps, the bar scene for better vamps, and a hospital with a blood bank for savvy vamps. Sassy had them all within walking distance. She also had housekeeping and laundry services and access to the pool and gym, so the hotel's penthouse suite was pretty much the best apartment ever.

"My dad used to take me to stay here when I was little so when I moved out on my own, I... Moved there." And crossing the street now! She does look both ways, but luckily there is a lull in traffic on the relatively calm evening, so they don't need to play frogger to make it to the other side.

[stepsonbutterflies]

Peter looks up at the hotel. It reminds him very much of something Nathan would arrange for him to live in. His brother paid for his apartment for years and Peter had allowed it because he figured his family owed him.

"Convenient," he says with a soft, wry sort of smirk.

Oh good. Being the frog hurts. Peter doesn't want to go through that and he'd rather not have to worry about her going through it either.

[no_substitution]

"It reminds me of him." She drags him in through the doors, nodding to the doorman who seems surprised that a man is trailing behind Sassy. She drags him all the way past the elevators and shoves open the door to the stairwell.

Yeah, she's a slayer, twelve flights of stairs is nothing. Keep up, Peter!

[stepsonbutterflies]

Peter catches the whole surprised doorman bit. It comforts him really. He allows himself to be dragged along by the tiny brunette, happy enough to take the stairs.

He's keeping up! Mostly.

"You just like taking stairs?"