blinded me, with SCIENCE!

[webdesigned]

CHARACTERS: Peter & Stiles
DATE: idk a time-ish time
WARNINGS: peters and stiles combined are always the worst
SUMMARY: SCIENCE!!!! for a bounty. this one.

( now, Perdition's Rest is a busy place, and it seems like there are a lot of people in need of a lot of things. it's kept Peter on his toes, which is a good thing. he's always better off when he's too busy to really think about things. like the fact he's sleeping on the floor not five feet from an alternate-reality version of his dead girlfriend that has spider powers of her own. he's gotten better about thinking about that, but still, sometimes a guy needs a distraction.

and when he'd heard of Farmer Zephyr's well problem, it sounded exactly like something he could fix. fix without need of his spider senses, which was actually nice on occasion. and of course, Peter never seemed to do anything alone, not so long as he could hassle Stiles into coming with him. since Stiles slept maybe six feet away from previously mentioned alternate-reality version of his dead girlfriend, it was often easy to harass him into tagging along.

the well in question wasn't too terrifying, honestly. pretty stone, a quaint little wooden frame. Peter peered down to the bottom, head tilted. ) No apparent smell or anything, so that's something, but plenty of poison is odorless so I'm gonna need a s— Oh god, there's something in the well, run while you still can!

( unfortunately for Stiles, Peter could fit right into a horror movie, and his utter commitment to his terror is probably enough to terrorize Stiles too, until he realizes there's nothing actually pulling Peter into the well. thankfully, Samara skipped this one. Peter does not deserve to be saved from the non-existent threat, especially when he laughs at the momentary panic. why is anyone friends with him. he nudges Stiles with a shoulder, and his grin is endearing, even if he's the worst friend in the world. ) It's water. I guess I should have expected that. My bad.

Comments

[figureitout]

[ he hears the of course, the reassurance lurking in between the words, saturating the beats of silence — but the thing is, he doesn't need to hear them to believe. somehow, trusting Peter with his life has become just as easy, just as effortless, just as natural as trusting Scott has always been.

he gives the rope a few experimental tugs, as though to see whether it'll hold; once he's satisfied it does, he grins back. ]

Yeah, yeah. I watch out for ghost girls, you watch out for Kryptonite, got it.

[ as Peter starts to lower himself down the well, he can hear a solemn narration accompanying him: ]

Well, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Team PS: their half-hour mission, to explore strange new places, to seek out possible anti-matter in water, to boldly go where no man (hopefully) has gone before!

[ he even hums the star trek theme..... ]

[webdesigned]

( the easy trust seems to be a two-way street. the risks of being dunked in an anti-matter contaminated well are ... well they're pretty lengthy, even if you're part spider. Peter still has no fear putting his life in the hands of his friend. somewhere along the line that uncertainty had faded. there were two people he could trust unconditionally in Audentes, and Stiles was probably the only one that had earned it.

his laugh at the narration echoes up the stone as he holds onto the rope and tries to hold still as possible, to make lowering him easier. he should have insisted on crawling down the wall, he thinks; he can't be light, even with the winch supporting some of his weight. )

Seriously though, I hope nobody has gone here before. All my jokes about ghost girls aside, I'd really rather not meet one. ( his voice gets farther and farther as he gets deeper and deeper, until he has to cup his hands by his mouth to shout up. hopefully Stiles can still hear him. ) Okay, slow! Gonna crawl down the rest, just a few feet. ( he twisted until he could get a grip on the wall, before slithering down it like the spider he was. the brick was damp and admittedly, his grip was uncertain. he was pretty glad for the back-up plan. he tugs a glove on with his teeth before cautiously collecting his sample, making sure to toss it in a bag for good measure to keep any contamination from reaching anyone else. ) I got it, Stiles! ( he was officially ready for liftoff. )

[figureitout]

[ his arms are burning, there's no denying that, the way he's gritting his teeth just to make sure Peter won't fall down — but any discomfort this gives him is irrelevant. he promised; he's going to do this.

honestly, he wants to laugh at the comment, but in his experience, ghost girls down in the well are all too close to what he's used to back home. ]

Yeah, fingers crossed! I mean, yours, not mine, I can't really manage that right now. Toes crossed?

[ the next time Peter yells up to him, his voice is faint, barely anything more than an echo, and Stiles has to strain to hear the words. he catches slow and crawls and puts it together. ] Okay! Be careful!

[ after that, it is an agonizing wait of, oh, five minutes at the most, though it feels twenty times longer — when he finally hears something, he can only guess what the words actually are... ]

I can't hear you, man, I really, really hope that was an "I'm ready" call and not a "help, a water spirit is trying to eat me", but anyway— let's get you up!

[ heigh-ho ]

[webdesigned]

( he should have guessed that at this distance, words would be distorted. he can't really hear much of a response, either; he fishes in a pocket to try to contact Stiles via communicator when suddenly the rope starts hoisting upwards. okay, then, any news is good news, it seems.

he feels guilty the second he sees the strain on his friend's face, but at least he can crawl out the last of it on his own. ) Good news, I don't have seven days to live and I didn't find a dead body down there. As for contaminated water — ( he shakes the specimen with the carefully bottled sample as proof of his success. ) Well, we'll see. Thanks, man, you know, you've got way more guns than I would have guessed.

( and you didn't even need to get bitten by a radioactive spider to boot! nice job, Stiles! ) C'mon. I owe you a drink, and then I'm gonna see what I can find in this stuff.

[figureitout]

[ the communicator does cross his mind, but considering that using it would mean letting go of the rope with one hand, at least... yeah, not an option. "the strain" ends up being more like Stiles looking halfway in the grave — as soon as Peter is safely out, he quite literally flops against the well in a heap of limbs, groaning unintelligibly.

he does, however, manage to give Peter a thumbs-up.

and then, after he's caught his breath again, ]

Dude, only your very watery, very uncomfortable death was motivating me to hold on to that rope. But the next time you get an idea like this... uh, maybe let's ask someone else along? Like Achilles. Achilles would be great.

[ he's grinning then, though, so he's not that mad about this whole thing. actually — it all went better than expected. ] Oh my god, I would kill for a drink right now, please and thank you, can we teleport to the saloon?

And, hey, let me know what you find. I'd offer to help with that too, but... [ you know. only one of them is a budding scientist here. ]