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You should listen to Navi DuBleu. (heyheylisten) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-05-17 18:34:00

Who: Navi and Pete.
What: Work talking!
When: After Pete and Motoko hang out.
Where: Their house.
Rating: PG-13 for language!
Status: Complete!



Pete had a bit more to talk to the wife about, other than phallic meat tanks and bacon ties. He simply hadn’t been looking forward to it, and couldn’t be arsed up until now. He didn’t want to upset the missus, because then she’d do that whole saying his full name and hands on hips and he’d have to make faces because he knew he was in trouble. And no husband wants that. Even on trash day when they forgot to take the garbage out or go through the trouble of remembering which was the recycle bin...when - to him - everything was for rubbish and he simply threw things in and didn’t make a fuss about it.

Pete Wisdom. He’s not eco friendly.

So thus Pete came trudging downstairs during a break from his writing reports of weird happenings, for MI-13, with an unlit cigarette clamped between his lips, tie askew, and white button down shirt rumpled and buttoned incorrectly.

“Navi!” he called out, at the usual volume they used at home: outrageously loud. It wasn’t even that they were mad, they were just very noisy. Indeed, covert spy times were not observed in the Wisdom household. “Yer not busy, are you?!”

She’d been separating the recycling, actually, wearing a comfy pair of his boxers that were only a little threadbare, as well as one of his t-shirts. “Not really, no!” She yelled back, a bit louder, her wings fluttering in response. Being a part of a yelly household was one of her great joys.

It was his, too. Nothing would come between him and his yelly household with his yelly wife and probably their yelly kid, that was going to be a firebreathing fairy.

Pete poked his head around the corner of a doorway, and catcall whistled at her for being sexy while wearing his things (which was, really, the sexiest thing ever).

"You look fucking sexy, luv," he said, with his volume turned down maybe one notch. Imagine the things the neighbors must overhear. Their ears probably bled lots. "Wot're you doing there then? Doesn't it go into the same bins?"

No Pete, it does not. You've been reminded 3892389238 times that it doesn't. FFS.

"Wote'er. I'll get to it later." He won't. Feel free to nag on him. He sekritly likes it. "I've got t'talk to you about summat work related. So don't thwap me for it. Unless you’d like to, and maybe it could lead into sexy times, which I highly approve of.”

She was holding an empty wine bottle, having rinsed it out. “What work related thing, then?”

Pete moved in close enough to stand behind her, not get thwapped by a fairy wing, and to put a hand on her hip. It was consolation for his being an arse and not recycling. Not to mention for what he was going to say, so he would be popping out for take-away dinner tonight, to further make up for it. That way, Navi wouldn't have to create another meat house...which were brilliant and delicious, but she deserved a break since she was buzzing around like a busy bee all the time.

"Well," he began to mumble around his cigarette, "this Interpol agent was told t'contact me and we had drinks, and...t'be perfectly honest? I'm not even certain why she was told to contact me, since I haven't worked for Interpol for months now. She offered to let me in on some dangerous investigation or other, but I didn't want to say yes or the likes, until I talked with you about it. Because I don't want you smashing my skull in with a rolling pin. That would be shite."

She didn’t want her husband in danger. Danger and Pete meant that he might get hurt, and that meant that she might have to stab people in the face. She was unaware of how she was gritting her teeth, but she made herself pause. “Do you want to go?” It really was up to him. It was his job, and it was up to him if he wanted to go on dangerous missions.

Was she gritting her teeth? That was teeth gritting. Pete squinted at her, turned his head, and spit out the cigarette onto the kitchen counter with a patooey noise, before he devoted his full attention onto the wife.

"A small amount of danger never hurt anyone? Much. Fine, that's a bloody lie, but I don't want t'go if it's going to upset you and I'll be careful and certain to come home at the end of the day. Not upsetting you is the main point and the entire reason that I'm talking about it, with you. Because discussions, marriage, things married couples are supposed to do, blah blah blah...."

Happy wife? Happy life?

“Honestly, as long as you come home safe. That’s literally all I care about, Pete.” Navi’s voice was serious, and she bit her lower lip. “I love you. I love our baby. I just want you to be around to meet them with me. What’re you going to end up doing?”

"I haven't a bloody clue at this point? Asian gangland fun times. I'll stay in the back row. Where I can safely cough me lungs out, because we all know that I have the lung capacity of a newborn kitten." He tried nicotine patches. And ended up smoking WITH THEM ON. This is what you have done to him, Orange County, with your weirdness. This is what you have done.

"Look. I love you. I love our baby." He snuck a kiss very close to that bit lower lip, so she wouldn't bite it anymore. "If I have to drag me sorry arse home from...wherever...you better bloody well believe that I will do so. In all likelihood, I’ll only be a liaison, even now. Nothing to fret over. Safe as houses."

“Then I’m okay with it.” Navi kissed Pete gently before punching him lightly on the arm. “Why’d you make it sound like you were going to do everything? Yeesh.”

"Because it's an odd situation, having an Interpol agent pop up and say that I'm her contact, when really, I'm working for British Intelligence, the weird shite division." He still didn't know who it was that didn't want him out of the loop, which was disconcerting. This was no time to dwell on it. He returned the kiss and gave the wife a sloppy smile. "I don't know wot I'll be doing? But I know that m'going to be home afterward, if I have to shoot and melt down every fucking thing from there to here in the process."

And he'd probably do it, too, while driving recklessly. Because that is how Pete Wisdom rolls.

She just wished she could come too, to keep him safe. Then she blinked. “I can come too! I can keep you safe!” Navi: no filter since 1990.

Pete blinked back at her.

"Luv, I don't know if I can get you Interpol clearance or if it's safe enough for you and Pete junior, there." Pete pointed at her tummy like it was exhibit A. "That said, you're dead useful for going tiny and sneaking in places, so I'll suggest it to her if we need a sneaky person sneaking into places through keyholes or summat. You know, Pryde's going to help as well, with her computer smart assery. Unless Kusanagi objects, I don't see why you couldn't 'elp somehow or other, also?"

"But," he was certain to add, "It's her case. Not mine, yours, or Pryde's. So it's her call, really, and she’s going to be the one calling the shots. I'm really only sitting about as it is, snarking about weird happenings and suggesting things. That's about it, really. If there's any bullets flying, then my only concern would be if you were in the midst of it and I'd be distracted and end up looking like swiss cheese. Which would be rubbish. So let's avoid that, if that's all right with you. I don't want to be swiss cheese, because it smells like feet. You'd be angry because I was shot up and go flying off for revenge, which means you could end up looking like a blue swiss cheese niblet and that's rubbish. Neither of us would get our revenge on any bad guys, since we'd be bleedy."

Now he was out of breath from saying that much, including flappy waving one hand around as he spoke, for emphasis. Because it needed saying, via brain-to-mouth spew.

Navi sighed and nodded. “I guess you’d be distracted even if I was tiny and in your hair, huh.” She thoughtfully pursed her lips together and nodded. “Well. It’s settled then. You get to go save the world some more, and if you get hurt, I’ll go smack people.

Warn them, Pete. I’m scary.”

"I know you are and I love you for it. Not even I want to tangle with the likes of you," he admitted. It was no lie, but he meant when she was truly angry...not on a regular basis. They had more of a really loud, sexy partnership. "We'll see if there's a time for you t'be tiny and in my hair, which is like a tangled nest for you to hide in and is lovely, really? I'll mention it to the agent, and let 'er know there's the option for a teeny tiny fairy. As soon as she realizes how utterly insane this entire fucking place."

He imagined she would be dreaming, soon enough. No one seemed to escape, unscathed.

Navi snorted. “Don’t say it right away, if only because she might think you mean a petit gay man.”

"No, I won't." He thought on that for a second, raising his eyebrows in a O RLY sort of way. "Or maybe I will, for it will amuse me, greatly."

“I am not short, or totally gay, Peter.” Navi folded her arms, pretending to be angry before bursting into giggles. “Is your partner hot?” She didn’t ask because she was jealous; she asked for her own personal daydreams.

“She’s hot and I’m not interested, because I’m sadly addicted to you. And how hot you are. Which puts every other woman to shame.” And that was the truth. As evidenced by the way his hands were rubbing on her and the sloppy stupid, shit eating grin on his face. “She’s also not my partner. I’m really only a contact. That’s all. So you needn’t worry that I’m going to do this to her...”

And thus began Pete nibbling teasingly on the side of Navi’s neck.