Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I heard you gave up on being a shrink.”

“A while ago now, but yes.”

“I guess it’s been a while.”

Pietro wasn’t sure how to reply to that without snarking him. “…I suppose, yes.” Time moved by much slower for him. It had been so long since he’d last crossed paths with Rictor.

“You’re teaching now?”

This was so awkward. Pietro’s thumb flicked over his spinner ring so rapidly that there was a low but constant grating rattle coming from his pocket.

“Quickie.”

The sound stopped and he prepared to flee, but Rictor finally reached out and grabbed for his arm. The hold was tight for a second - an eternity - before loosening. The speedster caught his hand before he could let go.

“…Pietro. Do you want to get some coffee?”

For Pietro, his hesitation was far too long. For Rictor, it was only long enough that he noticed.

“…yes, I teach now. Do you know a place nearby?”

The worried look faded from the younger man’s face and he smiled, small and cautious.

“Of course. Tell me about the kids?”

Pietro took a breath, and Ric had the distinct feeling that he would know more than those childrens’ parents before the evening came.

Chapter Text

There are memories in the tactile moments of silence. Rictor took Pietro's hand as he half-slept, lids more closed than not and breathing gentle and even. The callous was thick, speaking to the type of life he lived. That they both lived.

Pietro's eyes opened as Ric studied his body, taking stock of the other man in turn. His callous was thicker, rougher, dirt under his nails and imbedded in his palms the same way the earth was a prominant piece of his soul.

Ric startled when he realized Pietro was awake and the older man smiled at him in amusement, leaning in to brush a kiss to his lips, their stubble scraping light.

"Good morning." His palms moved to brush over Ric's chest, scratching through his chest hair affectionately. Ric returned the favoured and, to his credit, Pietro barely flinched as he lingered over the pockmarked scars that littered so much of his body. Months ago, he may have taken that as an opportunity to wrap his arms around the man and touch the matching scars on his spine.

Now, he knew better.

"Good morning, I love you."

"I love you."

Another kiss, a few gentle touches along his sides. Nothing sexual, nothing hurried. There were moments when even a speedster could be slow.