Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Stilinski (sarcasticfriend) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-03-10 17:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, peter quill (star-lord), stiles stilinski |
Who: Stiles and Peter
Where: Random Bar
When: Feb 4th
What: Hanging out and talking.
Status: Complete
“Okay, check this out.” Peter’s tongue peeked out of his mouth as he aimed his shot. He had pointed to a ball on the same side as a pocket but using his superior skills of geometry, luck and awesomeness, he managed to perfectly bank it off the side and get it into the pocket. Of course, if he had just shot up he would have achieved the same thing, but where’s the fun in that? “See, young whippersnapper, the trick to the game is style. Any prick can get something into a hole - ha ha - but the ones that keep getting to do it?? Panache.” Peter picked up his beer from the side and took a sip. He was driving, so he wouldn’t be drinking that much, but one beer with his new found platonic life-mate? Oh, that was necessary. * Stiles stood to the side, holding his pool stick as he watched Peter. “I’m watching,” he said. For a moment, he thought about smacking Peter in the ass with his own stick or maybe knocking Peter’s stick with his own so that he would fuck up the move that he was trying to do. He didn’t do any of those. Instead, he watched Peter do his trick shot. “Young whippersnapper? What are you, sixty now?” He snickered. “If I were to try anything like what you did, I’m pretty sure somebody would be going home with a concussion.” Then again he would have to be able to play first for that to even happen! “So, am I really here to watch you show off?” he jokingly asked as reached over with the pool stick and poked at Peter’s side. “Actually, this is more fun,” he said as he poked at Peter again. * “Ouch.” Peter poked Stiles back and shook his head. “A little respect to your elder, okay?” With his chin, he motioned at the table. “Rack them up, let’s play a game.” This evening had been fun. It was a little strange to think he was going out to hang with some 20 year old, and yet he had really had a good time. There was something to this friend thing. “I mean, you DO know how to play right? I know it’s not touch screen, or internet capable but it’s a pretty decent game. I’m a little rusty, since y’know, haven’t played in like five years. I still got it though.” * “Haven’t you heard, I have no respect for my elders.” And just to make a point, he poked Peter again. “Oh, now you want to play. Are you sure? I thought maybe you might want to show off a little more,” he teased as made his way over to the table so that he could start setting up the game. Stiles rolled his eyes at Peter. “You know, not all of us are glued to our computers. And yeah, I know how to play. Doesn’t mean I’m the greatest at it.” Once he had all the balls set up, he removed the triangle and then looked to Peter. “So, rusty, who is taking the first shot?” * Peter pointed at Stiles. “You can go, have first shot. Maybe I’ll learn something from you.” Or maybe he wouldn’t. This was just fun anyways. “So what is that Lydia chick’s thing? I think everytime I talk to her, I piss her off, which is kind of funny. She seems a little wound up. In a good way, I guess.” Peter didn’t actually have anything bad to say about Lydia. He liked talking to her. He even showed her how to drive his truck. She was just … uptight. “It seems like you guys have known each other a long time though.” * “Okay.” Stiles had no problem going first. “Learn what? How to suck?” he half-joked, getting ready to take the shot. “I guess that would depend on what exactly you’re saying to her to piss her off.” It was easy to piss Lydia off. Especially lately. Stiles kept pushing the creeper button when it came to her lately and he wasn’t going to stop either. He was curious about which buttons Peter had been pushing for Lydia to get mad at him. “She is wound up. Not really sure why. If I had to guess, I think it might be the dreams that she’s been having lately. They haven’t been all that great. Other than that, it’s Lydia being Lydia.” He took his shot and watched as the different colored balls scattered across the table. “Looks like I get to be stripes.” He moved around to a different spot to take his next shot. “Long enough…we met in high school, junior year. She wasn’t always this wound up.” He took his shot and a few more until he missed, stepping aside to let Peter have his turn. “I didn’t even know you knew her. She said nothing to me…” * “Shocking,” Peter said, grinning. “I doubt she would’ve mentioned me, even though I totally just taught her how to drive standard. We met randomly on that network thing you and I met on. Feels kind of weird to say that outloud, now that I think about it.” He watched Stiles take his shot before stepping in and assessing the table. Stripes, he’d said. Peter saw a few options, but as a showboating asshole, he needed to take the most complicated one. When he sunk the ball, he gave a cocky smile. “And again with these dreams… y’know, growing up, I never dreamed. Or maybe I did, but I don’t remember them. Now, I just started with these crazy dreams where I’m a superhero bad-ass guardian, kicking ass and taking names, and I don’t even get it. I’ve never even been to space, man…” * “You taught her how to drive a stick?” He asked. “You get used to saying it after a while.” It was odd saying it out loud at first for him as well, but after a while, it became a normal thing. He watched as Peter played, rolling his eyes when that cocky smirk of his showed up on his face once again. “Your face might get stuck like that if you keep making it.” He took a sip of his beer and listened as Peter brought up the stuff he had been a dream. “How come your dreams sound awesome? Mine aren’t that awesome. Not unless you count reliving high school awesome. Oh yeah, and the added werewolves, too. High school and werewolves. Just want any normal person wants to dream about.” * “If you can’t drive stick, can you even drive ?” This was a legitimate question. Peter had learned out on the farm, and it had stuck, and oddly enough, he liked teaching people how to do it too. The sounds the engine made, learning when to shift up or down … it provided more control than an automatic did. Werewolf dreams sounded cool, and Peter said as much. “Okay, but do you at least understand the why and the how? Reliving high school sounds like hell, but werewolves are cool. Right?” He’d never actually thought of werewolves before which he’d only right now realized. How was there a topic he had no opinion on?? Weird. “Because like in my dreams, I feel like I’m starting at the end. There’s all this STUFF that’s been established and I just know it but let me tell you -- I have NO idea what’s going on. And then it all ...ends. Just black. Nothing. I think I’m dead but not.” He shook his head. “I’m so over this already.” * “Isn’t that what automatic cars are for?” Stiles didn’t think there was much of a difference between people who drove stick and people who drove automatics. As long as people knew how to drive and didn’t try to hit him, he didn’t care. “The how and why of…?” he asked, a little confused. “Oh sure! It’s cool having a crazy werewolf trying to kill you and your friends.” He was being sarcastic, of course. The dreams wouldn’t bug him so much if they were just dreams. But Scott had turned into a werewolf because of the dreams and Lydia could have died because of said dreams. “Seriously? I haven’t seen anyone mentioning dreaming backwards. That has to be pretty annoying.” It would annoy him if he had to dream backwards. “Have you woken up to items from your dreams yet?” * “Items?” Peter vaguely remembered what Lydia had mentioned, regarding getting her dream car. Literally. “And what I mean is like … yeah, I feel like I’m at the end, so dream me GETS what’s going on. Me me has NO IDEA what’s going on. I just sit back, watch the show and wish I had popcorn.” He tilted his head. It was pretty cool to watch, except for of course when he majorly fucked up and let that purple tastebud guy free. Oops? “Have you gotten any items? And your go.” * “Yeah,” Stiles said with a slight nod of his head, “Items.” The fact that Peter didn’t seem to realize what he was talking about pretty much answered his question. No items. Maybe Peter just hasn’t gotten lucky with that stuff just yet. “Odd.” He wondered if Peter was the only one dreaming backwards. “Maybe you’ll get the start of your dreams the next time they happen.” He took his spot at the table and thought about his shot for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve gotten stuff. I’ve gotten my jeep, some lacrosse gear, a dog bowl with Scott’s name on it, and a picture of me and my mom.” He took his turn, sunk a few balls in before missing. “Annnnnd you’re up again!” * Peter stepped around the table and lined a shot, not bothering with flair this time while he processed what Stiles was saying. He hadn’t really talked to anyone about the dreams, brought it up vaguely to Yondu but there hadn’t been much comment back about it. In fact, Yondu hadn’t asked any questions really. “So do people all kind of ..talk about their dreams? I see some people use the network like their own private journal but I dunno, that’s not me. I guess the support group thing is what some people want...are the items you got, like do they mean anything to you or what?” Damn, this conversation was getting deep. What the hell. * Stiles started swinging his stick around as he watched Peter play. If anyone got anywhere near him, they’d more than likely get smacked with it. “In person, no idea. On the network, yeah a lot of people seem to talk about the dreams. Some do it in great detail, some are vague about them. It’s not mandatory to share. It just makes some of us feel a little bit better to put it out there. If it’s not your thing, don’t do it.” It really was as simple as that. Nobody was forcing any of them to talk about the dreams they had on the network. “In my dreams they mean something. I’m guessing that’s why they showed up. They all mean something to my dream self.” * “Huh.” Peter narrowly avoided getting hit in the head and he put up a hand and frowned. “Whoa there pardner, get a handle on your stick.” It took him a moment to realize what he’d said and he grinned. “ Heh, that’s what she said.” Oh yeah, he could appreciate his own jokes. “So what about this life? I mean, I seem to be some kind of space cowboy in my dreams but uh the reality is pretty damn far from it. I’m just the world’s greatest handyman/singer/insert great term here. Living the day to day while I piss off my old man.” He didn’t feel like explaining the relationship with Yondu again. It was too complicated. This was easier. Felt better too. * Oops. It wasn’t like he was trying to hit anyone. But Peter did walk in the path of danger. “Ha,” he would have said more, but Peter beat him to it and he snickered. “Come back over here and I’ll show you how much of a handle I have on my stick.” Stiles looked at Peter, eyebrow raised. The guy was a tiny bit full of himself. “Singer? Why do I doubt this?” He was imagining Peter singing horribly, but totally believing that he was the best thing since sliced bread. “Oh yeah? What do you do to piss off your dad?” He was curious. He knew he could drive his own dad up the wall, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t pissing Noah off all the time. * “I’m an amazing singer,” Peter responded. “Used to sing in a band once upon a time. It was kinda fun, but meh. Ska isn’t really my passion….and Yondu’s not my dad.” Looked like he would have to explain this after all. One day he’d figure out what he should say. “He’s my mom’s friend from high school. She died when I was young, and Yondu’s kind of always been around, whether I like it or not. And trust me -- there were many years that I didn’t like it but hey, now, I can appreciate that I have someone for me, and that’s more than most people in the clink can say.” Wait, had he explained that already? “At least I had a bed to come to when I got out.” * “You sang in a ska band?” Stiles asked almost unbelieving of that statement. “Oh.” He just assumed that Yondu was Peter’s dad and then Peter started to explain. “Sorry about your mom. Mine died too,” he said. “At least he was around to take you in. Even if you weren’t thrilled about it. I mean that’s gotta be better than nothing.” And then he paused for a moment. Did Peter just say that he was in the clink. “You were in jail? For what?” * “Bank robbery.” Peter didn’t even try to sugarcoat it or not. Why bother? It was public knowledge really. At least he had a really good mug shot. He took a shot and aimed, sinking a few balls. Pumping his fist, he smiled at Stiles. “I’m pretty fucking badass, except not. Stay in school, don’t do drugs, crime doesn’t pay, blah blah blah. I should have stuck with the singing.” * Bank robbery? Stiles had hoped it was something a little more minor, like breaking into a house. Not that was good either. He totally ignored the shots that Peter made. Instead, he was still stuck on the robbery thing. “What made you do it?” he finally asked. “Trust me, I don’t need that lecture.” He snickered. “You could start singing again!” * Peter straightened up and sighed heavily. He should have known he couldn’t get away with that comment with Stiles. The younger guy was quick. “Well..I wish I could say that I had a kick-ass reason. I mean, a crime that big, you gotta have a reason right? Love of money, thrill of the big job, tiny penis, whatever … but yeah.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why I did it.” That wasn’t entirely true. When it had initially come up in conversation, he’d laughed it off as some sort of drunken, coke-fueled, half-baked idea. He’d had fun problem solving, even going so far as to develop a few devices that could help break a bank. When the drugs stopped, he’d been weirded out to discover that the group was serious, his girlfriend included. While he hadn’t stopped talking to them, he did start to distance himself, wondering if this was really the right people to hang out with ...and then his grandfather died. Years of shame, guilt and all other emotions came bubbling up and he suddenly needed a win. Something that would say ‘yah, you’re a smart one, Peter’. And obviously that meant robbing a bank. “It was stupid, I was younger, and I got 5 years for it. Well. 5-7, but I was out early for good behaviour. Got one more strike though, and I’m not fucking going back for life. That’s bullshit.” * Nope, comments like that didn’t get dropped when Stiles was around. He was too curious for his own good. And, well, his dad being a sheriff just piqued his interest more into that whole criminal world. “That was a little less insightful than I thought.” He thought for sure there was an actual reason for doing it. But it seemed like Peter did it just because he could. “What was your first strike?” Yep, Stiles was still nosy enough to ask. “If you don’t want to go back, I guess you better keep up the good behavior, huh?” He flashed Peter a smile. “Or I’ll have to whack you,” he joked as he once again poked at Peter with the stick. * “Uh…” Peter had to think about it as he batted the stick away. And then a lightbulb went off. “Hey! That was when I went to juvie! I guess I only have ONE strike after all.” He grinned. “Wanna plan a robbery? I got one more crime in me.” This was a joke. Totally. * “I would throw confetti if I had any,” he joked. “Umm…” Stiles looked as if he was really thinking about an answer to Peter’s question. “Only if we’re going to rob Candy Mountain,” he finally replied with a grin. |