"You ain't a disappointment to me," Harry murmurs. "And no worthwhile friend of yours should be taking this as a chance to shake their heads and tut about how they thought better of you. You made a mistake, and it's eating at you. That's punishment enough."
"Most of my friends should know better. Not the first time I've done this kind of thing. Probably won't be the last." Because things keep coming around that drag him right back into these scenarios.
"Gotta admit, I don't really get you, Harry. Kind of okay with that, though. Thanks."
"This place has a thing about punishing people for doing what they have to to survive, huh."
He knows by now that there's probably more to the story, but he doesn't need to hear it. Even most of the wardens have done terrible things. And the ones that haven't tend to be annoyingly optimistic.
Pietro lets him pour the alcohol gratefully. "No shit. I don't really care if I'm here, I guess. But I mean, you've got people like Shiro-" Shiro. His stomach flips the moment he realizes he has no idea where she is.
He needs to call her. Soon. The idea that she might've been injured in all this...
...when he's done here. As soon as he's done here. He shifts in his seat a little. "Sorry, man. That has to sting, and I don't mean the gunshot."
Even Pietro, as skilled at denial as he is, can't keep ignoring the growing something between them. He ducks his head, more out of embarrassment than an attempt to avoid Harry's hand.
"I... wouldn't blame you, man. If you were. Relationship stuff always seems more complicated than it's worth." But he's not as dismissive of the whole idea as he used to be.
"It is. It's a fucking mess, Pietro, always is," he says, easily. "Even when it's going good, it's a mess. Trick is to find someone who's worth the mess. Who makes it so however scared you are of being hurt, or messed about, even when it's happened a hundred times before - you'll still be work 'em. Because they're worth the chance."
He says it, every word, watching Pietro intently. Barely blinking.
Pietro already has so much whirling around in his head right now. He's shaky from adrenaline, queasy with guilt, and it's making the alcohol hit harder than usual. He should evade, brush it off, play dumb. Because as soon as they cross that line, there's no going back to this comfortable... whatever it is they have.
He downs his glass in one go, not quite looking at Harry.
"So, uh. Me, huh." The question is out before he can stop it. Even though he suspects he knows the answer.
"Kind of already answered the question there, huh." He rubs his arm, not looking upset exactly. Overwhelmed is a better word for it.
"Guess I'm not surprised." And he isn't, oddly. Even if he hasn't admitted it out loud to himself, even if he hasn't let himself dwell on it, the evidence all lines up. "I just didn't- most people here still treat me like a kid." But Harry never has.
"No!" Because Harry thinking that of him would hurt. He's not quite sure when he started holding the man's opinion so highly. "Not for a long time." He half raised himself, after all. And he's-
-actually, he's turning nineteen soon. So fuck the rest of them.
"I've got... pretty much no idea what I'm doing, though. With this stuff."
"See now, when a young man says something like that, it says to me
that he's got a reason to be interested in learning. And I've been clear
enough about my feelings, Pietro, but yours - yours, I'm still feeling out."
His smile fades.
"I don't want to do or say anything you won't like, understand?"
Pietro's still feeling out his own feelings. Harry confuses him. He doesn't have breaches to fall back on, to explain the chemistry brewing between them, the way he does with certain other crushes. And Harry doesn't demand like Lourdes did, who made it impossible to want anything but what she wanted.
"I didn't think you would. And I-" He remembers the mistletoe kiss and blushes brighter. "I've thought about it. Us." He finally admits. "I just- I always manage to make an idiot of myself over these things."
"I don't mind that," Harry says, and his hard features soften. He can't
really manage gentleness or warmth in the way some people can, genuinely
nurturing types, but he telegraphs it well enough.
"I'd be flattered. Honoured, in fact. If you decided to make an idiot of
yourself with me."
He runs his hand through his hair, grimacing at a streak of soot on his uniform. Damn it's tempting. He wants to forget everything going on outside anyway, would it be so bad?
But.
"I... not right now. There's still people I haven't- I've got to make sure they're okay."
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likeshowbusiness) wrote2020-11-08 09:56 am
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At least Harry isn't lecturing. But he misses Anya, more than he has since she first went into the coma.
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"Gotta admit, I don't really get you, Harry. Kind of okay with that, though. Thanks."
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Happened more here, lately. Until they figure this most recent disaster out.
"How'd you wind up here, anyway?"
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"You asking me how I died?"
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Harry shrugs, nonchalant.
"I worked in a shady business with some shady people, I'm afraid. Only way to make it in business, the time and place I'm from."
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He knows by now that there's probably more to the story, but he doesn't need to hear it. Even most of the wardens have done terrible things. And the ones that haven't tend to be annoyingly optimistic.
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"This place has a thing about punishing everyone," Harry mutters.
He drains his glass and offers Pietro a top-up.
"...I was shot, incidentally. Not because of the job - my boyfriend. Took exception that I caught him playing away."
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He needs to call her. Soon. The idea that she might've been injured in all this...
...when he's done here. As soon as he's done here. He shifts in his seat a little. "Sorry, man. That has to sting, and I don't mean the gunshot."
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Harry scoffs lightly at the non-pun.
"It's alright. It did, but...well, nothing to be done about it now, is there. Thought I'd be done with all that by the time I got here, but...."
He stares at Pietro for a moment and then trails off, sweeps a hand over his hair.
"Mm. Never mind, eh."
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"I... wouldn't blame you, man. If you were. Relationship stuff always seems more complicated than it's worth." But he's not as dismissive of the whole idea as he used to be.
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He says it, every word, watching Pietro intently. Barely blinking.
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He downs his glass in one go, not quite looking at Harry.
"So, uh. Me, huh." The question is out before he can stop it. Even though he suspects he knows the answer.
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"Could tell a little fib, if you don't want to hear it."
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"Guess I'm not surprised." And he isn't, oddly. Even if he hasn't admitted it out loud to himself, even if he hasn't let himself dwell on it, the evidence all lines up. "I just didn't- most people here still treat me like a kid." But Harry never has.
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"Maybe most people think you are one. But you ain't a kid," Harry says, examining him. "Are you?"
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-actually, he's turning nineteen soon. So fuck the rest of them.
"I've got... pretty much no idea what I'm doing, though. With this stuff."
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"'This stuff.'"
Harry half-smiles, cocks his head.
"See now, when a young man says something like that, it says to me that he's got a reason to be interested in learning. And I've been clear enough about my feelings, Pietro, but yours - yours, I'm still feeling out."
His smile fades.
"I don't want to do or say anything you won't like, understand?"
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"I didn't think you would. And I-" He remembers the mistletoe kiss and blushes brighter. "I've thought about it. Us." He finally admits. "I just- I always manage to make an idiot of myself over these things."
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"I don't mind that," Harry says, and his hard features soften. He can't really manage gentleness or warmth in the way some people can, genuinely nurturing types, but he telegraphs it well enough.
"I'd be flattered. Honoured, in fact. If you decided to make an idiot of yourself with me."
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But.
"I... not right now. There's still people I haven't- I've got to make sure they're okay."
That he hasn't killed anyone.
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"Yeah. 'Course. You got loose ends, I respect that. Only an amateur leaves a job half done."
He kisses Pietro's temple.
"When you're ready."
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He puts a hand on Harry's, just for a moment.
"Uh. Thanks for... for the talk. I should go look for Mickey, and some other people."
He's glad, for once, that Anya's still unconscious. She didn't have to be involved.
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