[ wash is trying to set lines, and maybe in that sense pietro is right, just not for the reasons he thinks. wash isn't convinced that pietro knows what he wants yet. all arrogance, all talk, thinks he can handle everything thrown his way, wants more and more and more without knowing what he's asking for. with felix, they never had a single damn conversation, for better and for worse, but they both knew ( sometimes, depending on which of them you asked ) what they were getting into. with pietro, he wants proof. proof that he understands the depth of what he seems to think he wants.
but over their time together so far, wash is coming to understand that he won't get that. because pietro doesn't understand it. there are flashes of how he's trying to ( felix would never have answered him, would never have tried ), no matter how reluctant, but his pride is in the way of anything more. especially at that answer, the little mutter under his breath. wash has been pushing him, but pietro is pushing wash, too, and he makes a decision, there and then, and pietro might be able to see it. a flicker in his eyes. ]
You're going to have to.
[ this is one way to try and teach something. he can't draw those answers out of pietro because he simply doesn't have them, and so it becomes about finding those answers with him, as messy as that might be.
he knows by now that pietro is always impatient, seems to literally perceive things differently, lives his life at the speed that he can move in. wash doesn't change his own pace. he keeps pressing that blade in, sinking, millimeter by millimeter. it moves easily, too easily, like it's gliding through water more than flesh, and the only reason it's that slow is because of how well wash is able to control that pressure, that movement. precise, persistent, relentless, like a machine. he watches him. hungry. wanting. a trickle of red blooms around the wound. he'd chosen deliberately; shoulders aren't the safest place to get stabbed, and wash knows almost exactly the right depth to hit some nerve bundles that might be dangerous. the exact spot he'd chosen avoids that, but there's still some real risk if pietro doesn't make up his mind.
because he's not stopping. that becomes clear. there's a look in his eyes, not just that hunger and that predatory need, though that's still there, too -- but just a different kind of focus. a quiet fixation. watching pietro's every response, every twitch of his facial muscles, every instinctive tic and shift of his body in response to the pain. ]
no subject
but over their time together so far, wash is coming to understand that he won't get that. because pietro doesn't understand it. there are flashes of how he's trying to ( felix would never have answered him, would never have tried ), no matter how reluctant, but his pride is in the way of anything more. especially at that answer, the little mutter under his breath. wash has been pushing him, but pietro is pushing wash, too, and he makes a decision, there and then, and pietro might be able to see it. a flicker in his eyes. ]
You're going to have to.
[ this is one way to try and teach something. he can't draw those answers out of pietro because he simply doesn't have them, and so it becomes about finding those answers with him, as messy as that might be.
he knows by now that pietro is always impatient, seems to literally perceive things differently, lives his life at the speed that he can move in. wash doesn't change his own pace. he keeps pressing that blade in, sinking, millimeter by millimeter. it moves easily, too easily, like it's gliding through water more than flesh, and the only reason it's that slow is because of how well wash is able to control that pressure, that movement. precise, persistent, relentless, like a machine. he watches him. hungry. wanting. a trickle of red blooms around the wound. he'd chosen deliberately; shoulders aren't the safest place to get stabbed, and wash knows almost exactly the right depth to hit some nerve bundles that might be dangerous. the exact spot he'd chosen avoids that, but there's still some real risk if pietro doesn't make up his mind.
because he's not stopping. that becomes clear. there's a look in his eyes, not just that hunger and that predatory need, though that's still there, too -- but just a different kind of focus. a quiet fixation. watching pietro's every response, every twitch of his facial muscles, every instinctive tic and shift of his body in response to the pain. ]