piscesnebula | I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror [ peter + adam ]

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I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror [ peter + adam ]

it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

  With a thoughtful expression, Adam observed the effect his closeness and warm gesture had on Peter. Seduction was the most important — and honestly fun — skill in his arsenal, as it had been extremely rare to find anyone immune to his charms in all those decades. As much as he was tempted to lean in just a bit further to capture the empath's lips with his own, it wouldn't have been the most strategic move at the moment. The foundation to build loyalty needed a bit more cement. Not to mention, they had important work to do today, and he knew himself — a kiss would only serve as a maddening tease. Peter should be savored, and such attention took time.

  Adam's brows raised slightly as he was reminded the empath was new to all this. The life of an immortal wasn't always the easiest, but as Peter leaned into his touch, he wasn't worried. It wasn't a road the empath would have to walk alone, was it? Honestly, Adam hadn't had a chance to pause and think that far ahead. Gazing into Peter's big brown eyes gave the answer he needed for now. ❝ Ah yes, caffeine. Understandable, ❞ he replied with a nod.

  All attention remained focused on Peter as he got dressed and suggested a plan until, eventually, Adam couldn't help the breath of amusement that escaped him when the immortals on TV were mentioned. ❝ Giving out my secrets, are they? Yes, I have quite a few bank accounts, ❞ he admitted before getting up and opening the nearby closet to search for something that wouldn't embarrass Peter if they went out. ❝ Every house of mine bears a hidden safe with banking info and petty cash, you see. Just enough to last a bit if I can't get to the bank right away. ❞

  A moment later, Adam returned wearing normal jeans while buttoning up a simple white long-sleeved dress shirt. Making his way over, there was a playful smirk on his lips. ❝ There's only one problem — I simply can't remember where I hid it. ❞ Or could he? ❝ So, what say you attempt to find it with one of your extraordinary abilities, hm? We can have tea or coffee first, if needed, of course. ❞ It would be an entertaining test, as he really didn't fancy digging under floorboards or searching the attic. Two birds, one stone.

So, Adam does have more clothes that aren't rejects from the 70s. Thank god. He won't draw attention when they go out, now-- not that Peter knows if it's actually wise for them to go out anywhere public. How hard will the Company be looking for them? Hard enough that they'll be combing street cameras with facial recognition?

Adam's suggestion has him blinking in surprise, and then narrowing his eyes.

"Adam, I didn't pick up money GPS," he scoffs, heading toward the kitchen to see if there's any coffee there. He starts rattling through the cupboards, hopeful, and eventually comes up with one sad container of freeze dried coffee that withstands the sniff test. It's probably toxic. It's like decades old. But hey, they won't die, and if it's still got caffeine... it'll be worth it?

Futily, he wracks his brain for an ability that might actually help. Because he's kind of hopeless at the best of times, he's taken Adam at his word that he can't remember. The only thing he can think of is the telepathy, but that would only work if Adam does know the location.

"I don't think that even exists. Maybe if I had something like whatever that power is where you touch items to see their history, but I don't." Just in case, Peter taps the telepathy anyway as he gets some water boiling. At first, it's a little like static, like white noise, or a radio in another room. Distant voices. And then, as he tunes in a little more, focusing on the determination and justice that cop had felt, he can sense Adam nearby. The surface of his thoughts, a gentle murmur. "I don't know, what's the most likely place? Behind a painting? In the attic?"

  At first, Adam laughed softly at Peter's reply before slowly shaking his head as he followed him to the kitchen. If only there were such a power, but since there wasn't — as far as he knew, anyway — the empath would have to think outside the box. Perhaps combine powers, if that could be done. The possibilities were conceivably endless.

  As Peter searched one side of the kitchen for coffee, Adam took the other, hopeful for tea, but knowing that any found wouldn't be fit to use. ❝ Ah, Clairsentience; a somewhat rare ability, ❞ he said absently as the search through the cabinets came to an end with nothing of substance found.

  With the water boiling, Adam made his way over to see what Peter had discovered. A slight pout formed on his lips at what appeared to possibly be coffee. Yes, he would be waiting until they went into town. Perhaps there would be a Starbucks, as he'd been gifted a latte from there before and quite liked it. Not that he'd had much to compare it to in decades, though.

  Besides the memories of Starbucks and lattes telepathy might pick up, Adam's gaze drifted over Peter, with his bedhead and half-asleep demeanor, conjuring stray thoughts along the lines of yes, waking up to this every morning would be lovely. At the questions, Adam lifted his hand to gently comb Peter's hair back. ❝ There are only two general areas it could be — in the attic, in one of the hard to reach corners, or underneath something heavy, inside the ground floor. ❞ His thoughts told if he had to guess, it was in the attic, but he wasn't one hundred percent certain. ❝ Perhaps you can use your power of Intangibility to search? It's a small portable safe, so grasp it, and bring it back with you from its hiding place? ❞ Curiously, he observed Peter, wondering how confident he would be about this plan.

Peter's not sure if he immediately regrets the telepathy or-- something else.

Because first Adam thinks about Starbucks, and he guesses that makes sense -- (Peter's wistfully thinking about the little cafe down the block from his apartment and he has half a mind to lecture Adam about how garbage Starbucks is and real Italian coffee is where it's at not that milkshake coffee shit) -- but then he catches a glimpse of his own face, his rumpled hair, a snatch of wistfulness, curiosity, and, it's just a lot. Knowing that Adam wants to wake up to him every morning is a lot. Peter now gets why that cop had looked like he didn't sleep. Could he even turn it off? Did he have that luxury?

Thankfully, Peter does. Or at least, he's supposed to. Because when he goes to try to carefully dial that power down, it stays firmly stuck where it is. Part of him likes hearing Adam's thoughts.

Fuck.

"Sure, that could work," Peter says, and he feels like his own voice is coming from a mile away, deliberately casual in the face of his internal chaos. "I'll give it a try after I've got some caffeine in me."

It doesn't take long to get the coffee brewed, and when Peter takes a sip, it takes every scrap of stubbornness he has not to spit it back out. It had smelled okay, but holy shit.

"Nope." Peter sets the coffee back down. "Well, maybe." He picks it up again and takes another sip, and scowls even worse than the second time. "That's disgusting." And yet he's not putting the cup back down. "Want any?"

  Over time, if Peter peeked into Adam's thoughts long enough, he might notice the subtle disconnect between the relatively youthful physical side and the jaded, guarded wisdom of the centuries and how often they clashed. Spontaneous flights of fancy — such as hoping Peter was different than most people and desiring to wake up to him — were allowed to exist, but only in silence behind a poker face. At least until he felt comfortable enough around someone to allow his walls to come down. It was safer that way.

  But for now, with all he'd seen of the empath, Adam would humor his wishful thoughts and enjoy the moment, even if it might all turn to shit in time... As it seemed the coffee had, if Peter's reaction was anything to go by. A subtle smirk of amusement formed on his lips as he couldn't help thinking how adorable Peter could be.

  Shaking his head, Adam gave a soft laugh. ❝ But, you just said—you know what, alright, you have me curious... ❞ Putting his hand over his, he lifted the cup to his mouth for a sip. There was a pause. His eyes twitched before narrowing as he forced a swallow. Any trace of a grin was gone now. ❝ ...In all my years, my regeneration has never been put to such a test. ❞

  With restrained urgency, Adam took out the wine and gulped it to get the horrible taste out of his mouth before turning to Peter and offering the bottle. ❝ That simply won't do. I'm going to get you some decent coffee, love. Believe I saw a couple proper shops on the map, then we'll pick up a few things. I have enough money for us today, no worries. ❞ A grocery list began forming in his thoughts — tea, coffee, milk, sugar, whatever sort of styling product Peter needs for his hair...

"I think," Peter says solemnly, "that if we didn't have cellular regeneration, we'd be dead already. Dead from stomach necrosis or something."

He takes the wine bottle and has a generous few gulps, swishing the last mouthful around to chase the taste of rancid coffee out of his mouth. God, that was awful.

With that done, he hands the wine bottle back just incase Adam wants to get daydrunk -- hey, who is he to judge, the guy's like a few centuries old -- and very, very carefully does not remark on exactly what hair product he uses. He knows damn well it's really, really rude to be intruding on Adam's thoughts like this, and yet--

There's something pure about hearing his unguarded thoughts. Adam is a man that wears one face and hides another. His every sentence is cleverly chosen. Peter knows he's prone to being gullible about people, but even he can pick up that Adam only lets people see what he wants them to see. Telepathy is affording him a whole new perspective. He'll tell Adam soon, he resolves. Just... not quite yet.

"I'll go look for that safe, it shouldn't take long. I think I can differentiate between solid matter and empty space while I'm intangible, so it shouldn't be too hard to stick my hand through the floorboards and find something. Do you wanna go shopping alone, or should I come with?"

  A nod of understanding was given. Death by coffee; how utterly embarrassing it would have been after surviving plagues and pandemics throughout the centuries. Once Peter handed him the wine bottle, Adam took a final swig before returning it to the cabinet so they'd have plenty to go with the leftover Italian food later.

  At Peter's agreement to look for the safe, Adam found a pencil and began taking the liberty of marking on the floor where the empath should check during his search. Luckily, these weren't totally blind guesses, as he always hid his treasures in the same few places throughout his different properties. That way, they were never truly lost. So far, there were places to check underneath the fridge and in the corners of the kitchen beside cabinets.

  As he stood back to observe the ability that had bought them both their freedom, Adam paused to look at Peter and slowly shook his head. ❝ Never underestimate your enemy. If they were to catch us apart, I... ❞ wouldn't be able to protect you. ❝ I would be a sitting duck without you, you know, ❞ he finished with a soft laugh as he gave Peter a pat on the shoulder. ❝ Besides, I believe the Italian restaurant has a cafe on the side. It'll be my treat. Least I can do considering my decades-old coffee made an attempt on your life. ❞

  Normally, Adam might have been worried about going out into town, but not here. One of the reasons he'd chosen this city was its lack of progressiveness, especially concerning technology. The only cameras would be in and around the bank, so as long as they kept their distance from that building, he was confident they would be fine.

"A sitting duck," Peter scoffs. "Yeah, you're a helpless little delicate flower without me."

Peter's pretty sure it's the other way around. Adam has been surviving for centuries; god only knows what he's had to do to survive. He'll know his own body down to the cellular level by now, he'll know everything it's capable of, every kind of wound he can get away with and how long it takes to heal. Peter, on the other hand, still can't activate half his abilities when he wants to.

Well, at least he's got decent coffee to look forward to once he finds the safe.

The first x that Adam marked is square in the middle of the kitchen. What happens next isn't exactly big on dignity; Peter gets down on his hands and knees, stares very intently at his hands for a long few seconds, and nearly clocks himself in the face when both hands fall straight through the floor. He recovers (somewhat), and pushes the power into just one arm so that he can lean on the floor with one forearm and shove the other arm through the floor, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to figure out what he's picking up on.

"There's a kind of... vibration," he narrates to Adam. "It makes sense that this kind of ability would come with a solid matter sensor, right? Otherwise you'd be feeling your way around in the dark. But I think I'm just picking up floorboards here."

He makes his way to the next spot, and the next. And eventually, finds a more solid mass right in front of the fireplace.

"Jackpot." He shoots a crooked grin at Adam. "Got any powertools lying around? We'll need a saw, at least."

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I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror [ peter + adam ]

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