Work Text:
Peter had given him two seconds of the whirlwind romance Juno had never hoped to have, and then stolen it back, along with an ancient Martian death mask and his payday. And then Peter had asked for Juno's trust, and then had the gall to call it a 'professional courtesy'.
If Peter wanted Juno to be professional, he shouldn't have kissed him. Shouldn't have smiled at him like that, shouldn't have worn that alien scent of spice and sex, shouldn't have leaned into him like, said those words, touched him like that.
Juno had a lot of feelings about Peter, but none of them were professional. Coworkers didn't dream about each other's lips. Or, at least, Juno assumed. He liked to work alone, most of the time, and Peter- Rex Glass, then -had been his first go at the whole partner thing. And that had gone so well.
So, no, Juno didn't trust Peter, and he honestly wasn't sure he ever could. But he loved him, loved him so much that his fucking chest ached with it some nights. It didn't make sense; They'd spent a couple days together, most of them spent in small rooms talking to hysterical crime lords and not-so-retired thieves. Not exactly what Rita would call a storybook romance, but it had done it's job.
He was happiest when he was with Peter. Honestly, that made even less sense than the rest of their goddamn relationship. Being with Peter usually meant gunfire, explosions, and bickering like Juno had never bickered before. It was exhausting. But not in the way Juno was used to, not the way he felt every night when he dragged his sorry ass to bed. Usually, Juno felt exhausted in the way that made him want to lay down and never wake up again-- But Peter's exhaustion felt more like his nights at the academy, like going to sleep nearly dead and excited to wake up the morning after and doing it all over again.
Plus, there was the laughter. The way Juno's sarcasm bounced off of Peter's flamboyant humor. There was the work, too; They worked together like a well-oiled machine, their ruthlessness and compassion balancing each other in ways Juno hadn't known people could achieve. A part of it made him never want to leave Peter's side.
Another part of it terrified him.
Peter was a monster in a mask, and Juno knew it. He knew it, and he loved him anyway. What did that make him?
And then-- Trust. Trust, and love, and a desperation like Juno had never known. It was devastation, and it was the most alive Juno had felt in years. Loving Peter was a drug, and Juno knew what it meant to chase a high like that. He was going to die for this monster, if that was what it took. He was going to die for a name and an impossible dream.
That was okay. Juno would choose Peter's side over a warm ditch any day.