#biomechatronic

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Peter gives up on pacing the room long enough to grab his comms.

“Rita?” he says the moment she picks up the call. “Have you found anything?”

“Nope. His car hasn’t moved since the last time you called. But that was only like five minutes ago, so... you never know?” She tries to push a hopeful note into her voice, but it’s laced with as much anxiety as Peter feels.

“And his comms?” he asks.

“Still d--” Her voice trips over the syllable. “Still offline.” 

The word she was going to say is dead. Still dead.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she says, as unconvincing as she is unconvinced.

Peter’s beyond persuasion. He’s putting on his shoes and stuffing his pockets with knives.

“Send me the address where his comms went down. I’ll look for him myself.”

“But-- but Mista Steel said--”

“We’ve waited long enough,” he says sharply. “Send me the address.” And he hangs up the call. 

He grabs his coat off the hook and is about to pull it on when the door swings open.

And there he is: ragged and and bloody and suspiciously damp below the elbows and knees, but amazingly alive.

“Juno,” Peter breathes. And then chokes a little, because Juno smells like he just crawled out of a sewer grate.

Juno’s stare meanders from Peter’s startled face to the coat hanging in his hands to the telltale bulges that reveal an array of knives. He doesn’t get to stare long before Peter is in his space, foul odor be damned.

“Juno, are you alright?” he asks, wiping the damp curls out of Juno’s eye.

“I’m...” Juno looks down. “Can I answer that after a shower?”

While Juno scrubs himself down, Peter sends Rita a text letting her know that Juno made it back in one piece, then he stows the soiled clothes and shoes in a trash bag until he can get them washed. The long coat will need to be dry-cleaned (and it will be, even if Juno insists that the service is one blaster shy of armed robbery). 

And then he waits.

He tries not to count the minutes that Juno spends in the shower, or to calculate the point when the last of the hot water must have run out. When the water shuts off and Juno still doesn’t come out, Peter manages to stop himself knocking at the door and asking if he’s alright. He waits.

Finally the bathroom door cracks open and Juno peeks out. He seems a little surprised to find Peter sitting on the bed waiting for him.

“Hey,” he says through the door. “Can you grab the first aid kit?”

“Of course,” Peter says, and vanishes for a few seconds to retrieve it. “Would you like some help?”

He doesn’t miss Juno’s reluctance before he answers. “If you want.”

“I do.” It’s as close to an invitation as Peter is likely to get, so he lets himself inside.

Juno’s stepped back from the door, and now he’s leaning against the counter with a towel around his waist and his arms folded over his chest. He’s trying to cover the laser burn on his side without being too obvious about it; perhaps he’s given up on trying to hide the other cuts and burns on his body.

“Well,” Peter says softly. “It looks like you had an eventful evening.”

Juno won’t look him in the eye. “You didn’t have to wait up for me or anything.”

“I know. But I wanted to.” Peter takes out a jar of burn cream and another jar of disinfectant. “Give me your hand?”

Gingerly Juno unlatches his hand from his chest and offers it up, and Peter begins the careful work of tending to the multitude of smaller wounds. The sewer can’t have been kind to Juno, even with the shower to get the worst of it off.

“I tried calling you.”

Juno looks away. “Yeah. One of the gangsters I was chasing broke my comms.”

Peter hums sympathetically. “Don’t you hate it when that happens?”

But Juno takes it the wrong way. He yanks his arm back, glowering at the bathroom tile. “I didn’t break it on purpose, okay? It just happens. There was a fistfight, and the damn thing got smashed. There wasn’t anything I can do.”

“Juno,” Peter wraps his arms around Juno, careful not to disturb any visible wounds. “Juno, shh. It’s alright. It’s just a comms. I have plenty of burners to spare.”

“You got another car in those pockets of yours?” Juno mutters petulantly. “Because that got totaled, too.”

Ah. Is that what he’s so worried about?

Peter strokes Juno’s cheek, making sure to avoid the fresh black eye. “Does that mean you’ll let me help you pick out a new one?” 

Finally Juno looks up at him, a little confused and a little relieved and entirely too vulnerable.

“It’s gonna be a pain in the ass,” he mumbles. “An expensive pain in the ass.”

"Sounds like a challenge,” Peter smiles wide enough to show off his teeth, and he manages to inspire a small smile in return from Juno.

“Listen,” Juno says when the smile flickers out. “I’m... sorry. For all...”

Peter leans in to kiss his forehead. “You have nothing to apologize for, love. I’ve got you back in one piece. That’s more than worth a little bit of worry.”

Juno sighs against him, and some of that pent-up tension finally starts to melt away. “That’s... that’s good to hear.”