Head Up High

@storiestotell

He was not here of his own volition, but Sung’s.

The empath had told them to go and make friendly with the locals now that they had landed. Up the public image, all that jazz (Sung’s words, not Havve’s, never Havve’s.) And sure- that was fine for Phobos and Meouch, but Havve wasn’t known as the “murder bot” of the band for nothing. Already everyone was keeping their distance, eyes wary.

Except for one.

Someone was watching him insistently, unapologetically. He could feel it. The ‘bot turned with a loud groaning of metal, curious as to who, or what, it was.

There was a saying that bravery and stupidity were the same thing when you got down to it. A lot of people pegged Nocome for either brave or stupid or both. Occasionally, those were fitting descriptors but most of the time, she was just curious and determined. That was why she was still standing there, too close. 

She had to know. 

“Hi? Uh, aaniin. That’s another way of saying hi,” she said, realizing immediately she was talking too fast. “Oh boy. I’m not tryin’ to bug you or anything. Just, y’know, being polite…?”

‘Hello’ he wrote out on a notepad in pen moments later. ‘Forgive me but I cannot speak.’

Oh! Havve! Sung suddenly babbled inside his head, distracting him. How’s the meet’n’greet going?

Later, Sung. Havve huffed internally before bringing his mental walls down.

The robot turned his attention back to the young girl, studying her. He played back her words in his feed as he did, stripping it down. Aaniin. Native American. Ojibwe? Yes, he was certain. They had traveled great swaths of Ontario over the years but all they had to show for it was Toronto slang and Sung’s halting French-Canadian, more for lyrics and flirtations rather than actual speech. Besides, maybe she had come from elsewhere. Gods, he was over processing this, wasn’t he?

He feels like he’s going to be sick when he sees that grade. He should have known, should have actually used his brain for once. The ground could open up beneath him and swallow him at any moment, please.

“No.” His voice comes out ragged and he has to take a few deep breaths or he’s going to be sick for real. “MJ, please let me make this up. I just want to…” He trails off because he sees it. The way that tear curves into her fine nose, it glimmers in the late fall sunshine and his hands spasm at his side. Do NOT touch her, Peter. Not only was that not cool in general, but MJ would break his damn hand.

He’s dropping to his knees and the bite of the concrete feels appropriate. “You can walk away right now and I’ll never bother you again and make you feel this way again, or you can…” He swallows and bows his head. “You can stay and I’l show you the best damn day you could have in New York, and also not make you feel this way. Added bonus?” He looks up then with a hopeful smile. It falters slightly and he swallows against the knot in his throat. “Please, let me… let me try one last time.”

Michelle doesn’t know what she wanted, but it isn’t this. She wants him to keep making excuses so she can stay mad at him, insult him, storm off in a huff and make it really sting. It would last. But what she doesn’t want is Peter to look at her like that, like a little piece of his heart has just shattered, and a moment too late she reaches up to swipe away the last shred of evidence that she was an idiot. 

A spike of panic shoots up her spine when suddenly Peter is on his knees in front of her. “What are you doing?” she asks, the pain and anger in her voice replaced by uncertainty and confusion. “Get up, you weirdo, this looks like some crazy BDSM thing!” There’s hardly anyone on the front steps, but the few out here are watching them like zoo animals. Michelle half-crouches to take a handful of Peter’s shirt and try—what was that flash of red under his shirt?—getting him to his feet again, but she gives it up quickly and instead drops to her ass on the steps beside him so it just looks like they’re hanging out.

“You have a free pass to call me loser all day! I’ll throw that in no charge!” He’s readjusting himself so he’s sprawled out comfortably on the steps as well. “I promise you you’re not even going to remember how mad you were. Are you... hungry?” He leans forward slightly. “If not we can wait! If you are, I have the perfect place for us to start!” 

His ears perk slightly before he offers her a nod. That made a lot more sense, and was a lot less worrisome in the long run.

His planet had always been separate from others. The variety in his alien race wasn’t radical by any means. Tall and lithe with varying ear shapes and various skin tints depending on what region they were born in. The appearance of the others wings has his heavy lidded eyes widening. His movements are stiff, his eyes unmoving from the feathery masses that extend from her back. Humans had already been such a shock to him, but this…

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” His voice was quiet as he took her hand. “What should I expect…?” The question was probably already too late, but he had to ask, had to give himself some kind of mental preparedness before going into whatever this was going to be.

Home? An answer? Endless regret folding in on itself over and over again? He was suddenly breathless, his hand tightening in hers.

She takes in the feeling of the others hand finding it smooth in some ways although different from a humans naturally. The soft glow that radiates from her own body spreads partially to DD as the wings spread out wide discarding a few loose feathers. Each fallen one turns to stardust the moment it hits the ground. 

“Expect it to be a little cold in the sky for the show. If it’s uncomfortable I have fox fire.” Off her foot kicks from the earth allowing the fox to float slowly up easily tugging him along, her magic should allow him to float as well as long as he holds her hand. While the night has been a mostly clear one that didn’t mean there hadn’t been a few clouds. Perfect for this.

Serinaty hums in thought while glancing over a particular cloud. “Make sure you do not let my hand go during this.” A nicely shaped smaller one had been the target of her attention as she pulls him over to it softly lowering her feet to it allowing white flames to bubble up from her form spreading along the cloud solidifying it enough to actually walk along. “Something in my cold flames helps to make the cloud temporarily stable for awhile. You’ll be fine now, these flames are for healing purposes mostly.”

They’re landing and everything in him that’s studied up on Earth culture and how their planet is made up is saying this shouldn’t be possible, but then again, neither of them should be possible. His head is already upturned, mouth falling open at the night sky above them. Stars, countless stars close enough to touch, to catch on your tongue.