Writing Wrongs
Title: Writing Wrongs
Author: windywisp
Genre/Pairing: Torksmith atm
Rating: PG-13 atm
Warnings: AU, some language, a little bit of violence, nothing too bad..yet(hahhaho)
Disclaimer: ye it totally happened(no)
Summary: Peter decides to take a trip to the wild west, and gets loads more than what he bargained for.
Author's Note: omg sorry for taking so long! i went to ny and didnt get to any writing but this week i did
my school year's ending really soon so hopefully more updates??? idk but ye i hope you like it ;u;
"But Mike! It's a squaredance! You love square dances!"
"And with every single dance step you take, he's getting farther and farther away."
Micky snorted, tugging on his wolf-hat in annoyance. "But there'll girls! I don't know about you, I'd rather be dancing with a bunch of comely women than that - what's his name again?"
"He hasn't got one," Mike answered, squinting out at the barn Micky had pointed out a couple minutes ago. All the lights were on, lighting up the night sky and the sign out front advertised a square dance that anyone could attend. Mike said no way, but Micky wanted to, and Peter...well, Peter just wanted to go to sleep already.
"What do you mean he hasn't got one?" Peter yawned, head resting on Mike's shoulder. "Well, we don't know it, anyway. Micky!" he yelled in exasperation as the bandit tried to sneak quietly away. "Come back here."
Micky looked like he was about to argue more, so Peter just groaned and said,"Look, I really don't care what happens at this point, but something tells me Micky is just going to sneak off even if we do keep going, so i think we should just go. But not the whole time, we can only stay for a little. Is that okay?"
Mike looked back at Peter a little openmouthedly and then went back to staring at thr barn. "Well I think - Well, I guess that's a good idea, Pete."
"Good," Peter murmured, closing his eyes. Micky whooped and yanked his reigns to send his horse forward.
The barn actually smelled nice, something none of them had really experienced before. And just as Micky had predicted, there were more than enough pretty girls. But also more than enough handsome guys.
Micky groaned. "This always happens, there's always some one taller and buffer and probably dumber-"
"I'm gonna go lie down," Peter said, rubbing his eyes. "Hey, I'll come with ya," Mike said, following him over to a bench running along the sides of the wall.
"Why're you so tired, anyway?" Mike asked as Peter wrapped his arms around it. "I'm not used to staying up so late," Peter murmured.
Mike laughed. "I bet you were in bed by nine."
"Actually eight," Peter said, and cracked a smile.
Mike cocked his head a little, staring, but trying not to seem like he was. There was something about Peter's smile that was genuine and lit up everything that was dark. Mike pulled a little on his hair and turned away and watched Micky sidling up to a girl who had her arm around some macho cowboy man.
Mike rolled his eyes as he watched Micky be thrown halfway across the dancefloor into a bale of hay within seconds. He'd seen it all before. Micky tried to weirdly awkwardly flirt with some girl, his boyfriend got annoyed, picked him up, and either a.) beat him to a pulp b.) beat him into some pulpy juice or c.) got out a juicer, stuffed Micky into it, and-
"She wasn't worth it anyway, buddy," Mike said patting Micky on the back.
Micky just sulked, and looked over at Peter. "What's he doing? Sleeping?" "No, he's in a coma," Mike snorted. "Yeah, he's asleep."
Micky was about to make some smart comment when he was interrupted by a high pitched squeal from behind. Micky jumped about eight feet in the air and fell on Mike, hitting him in the face with his hand at the same time. Behind them were about five girls, giggling and biting their nails and staring at-
Peter.
"Oh, he's so adorable! Like a puppy!"
"I just want to hold him!"
"I just want to dance with him."
"Hey, get in line sister!"
Peter's eyebrows scrunched together and he slowly opened his eyes, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes to more excited squeals.
"Wh..?" Peter muttered, sitting up more.
Mike felt a little like he was introducing a new pet to friends and turned, rubbing the bruise Micky had given him on his cheek. "His name's Peter."
"Aw!" one of the blondes gasped. "What an adorable name!"
"Hi," Peter said, and smiled, and it was like Jesus had suddenly appeared before all of them and began blessing all of them with everlasting life or something. All the girls started clamoring forward, asking if he was single, if he wanted to dance, and Mike started to feel a little annoyed. He stood up from the bench. "Look, girls, he's not for sale. Go on now."
They all looked disappointed and sulky, turning to Peter and pouting. Peter just looked at Mike, and so did they. Mike shrugged and pointed off back to the dance floor and they left, grumbling.
"Thanks, Mike," Peter muttered. "That was actually kind of sort of extremely terrifying." Mike blushed a little and turned to answer when-
"ARE YOU KIDDING?" Micky yelled, shooting up from where he'd been lying on the bench. "That was babe central, Pete! You just - you passed up - hey girls!!! I'm available too!" he yelled, running across the barn.
"We gotta go soon, Micky!" Mike yelled after him. "I don't want 'em taking up more of our time."
But really though, his mind wasn't anywhere near Micky or time or even the criminal at this point. It was somewhere else very different, but also very close, who might just have blonde hair and a great smile.
-
"Rise and shine, Petey."
Peter moaned softly and pushed the hand ruffling his hair away.
"Early bird gets the worm."
"But I don't like worms," Peter whined, finally opening his eyes.
Micky was leaning over him, hair mussy and wild. "C'mon, man, we can't hang around all day. I mean, we could, but then Mike'd kick our asses."
"What's so important about all that money anyway?" Peter muttered, trying to untangle himself from the blankets he'd buried himself in. "Well," Micky said, handing him his shirt, "I'm going to either buy myself a big giant farm or go to a big city and just get the fanciest, nicest things ever. Oh, and food for the hungry orphans of course." Peter's head popped out from the top of his shirt, hair falling into his eyes. "What about Mike? What's he gonna do with it?"
"Dunno," Micky answered, sitting next to Peter. "He's never said anything and I've never asked. He's kind of - well, he's kind of not very....open." Peter nodded, knowing what he meant. With Micky, you could see if he was happy or angry or anything just by looking at him, and he didn't seem to have many secrets, but Mike...Mike's eyes were more closed off and he always looked like he was trying to figure you out before you figured him out.
"You guys up?" Peter straightened his shirt, crawling out of the tent after Micky. "Yeah, Mike," Peter said, standing up. "Where are we going?"
"Just into the next town. We're already out of food, and I'm pretty sure there'll be some food there. C'mon up, Pete."
"Maybe," Peter said, heaving himself up to the saddle. ",maybe there, we can get a horse - just for me?" He looked up at Mike, panting, catching a sharp emotion in his eyes before he turned away. "Yeah, sure Peter. Let's go, Micky." There was something strained in his voice Peter didn't quite catch.
Probably shouldn't dwell on it. Mike's weird. he thought, shaking his head.
The ride towards town was quiet other than Micky's endless chattering, but Peter had already learned to tune most of it out. He couldn't , though, when Micky pulled back on his horse's reigns and yelled,"Fire!"
Mike stopped abruptly too, muttering,"What in the livin' hell....C'mon Micky!" They picked up speed again and Peter peered over Mike's shoulder. The town was in flames, fire licking the light blue sky. Peter saw some women and children, dressed up nicely, come hurtling towards them. They slowed down as to not run them over.
Their faces were sooty and their dresses were ripped and charred. One of them, a pretty brunette, turned to Micky. "Oh, sir, please help! Someone set our town on fire while we was all at a weddin' and I can't find head nor tail of the groom or bride!"
Micky gazed at her, eyes a little glassy. "Oh, madam, we'll be sure to find your broom and gride. Don't worry." Mike reached over and pinched him, making him jump and glare at his friend. "Don't worry ma'am, we'll do our best. Any chance you know what he looked like?"
"Uhm, he was very scraggly, crinkly tan skin, a very scratchy barky laugh..."
"Yup, we got our man."
Mike turned to Micky and Peter."Micky, you and Pete go see if you can find the missing people, and I'll try an' find out who caused this mess. I think I may know who he is.."
"Will you be okay?" Peter asked, sliding off the saddle. Mike turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows. "Wuh?"
"Will you be okay."
"Oh, um, yeah Peter, thanks," Mike sort of mumbled. "See ya guys soon. We'll meet up here." He turned back to the reigns, hoping that the heat from the flames was the reason his face felt so warm.
Micky and Peter rode out through the streets, slowing around what looked like the church where the wedding had been Peter quickly started to feel warm and uncomfortable, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. He made the mistake of letting his hand slip to touch the metal part of the saddle and gasped as his fingers touched it. He sucked on his fingers woefully, trying to see past the haze of heat and fire.
Micky took off his hat, sweating. "Ugh, maybe we shouldn't have come in here...but that girl was pretty, Peter, even with all that soot on her - Did you hear that!?"
Peter looked at him wide-eyed as Micky put a finger to his lips, staring around.
"Help!"
Micky dropped down from the saddle, motioning for Peter to follow. They made their way past the sizzling brick of the church and through the open door. In the middle of the aisle was a raging wall of flames and behind it they could see a short man jumping up and down yelling.
"Hey, help!"
"Hold on!" Micky yelled back. "Ugh, shit Peter, have we got any water?" "Good idea, Micky, I'm thirsty too," Peter said digging around in their bags. Micky rolled his eyes and caught the water pouch Peter threw him. He dumped the entire thing in the fire, sending vapor up into the air and water splashing all over his shoes. He heard Peter gasp and reprimand him and before he could ask if Peter was sane or not, he was being tackled.
No, not tackled but...hugged?
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," the man gasped as Micky peeled him off his body. "I thought I was going to die! Horrible stuff, horrible! D'you think you could give me a lift outta here, it's much too warm-"
"Hold on," Micky said. "You're a Brit."
"Shocking new information!" the man quipped, thick eyebrows rising into his bangs. "I'm David Jones, call me Davy. I was supposed to get married t'day, but apparently not anymore!" He hummed, looking cheerful, and Peter cocked his head. "You're....happy about that?"
"Yes, well, it was sort of love at first sight, but then it was secret dislike at second week, and all of a sudden, I'm getting married! C'n ye believe it? At only 19! She was, what, 17?"
"Oh! Where's the bride?" Micky piped up. "Oh, I threw her out the window," Davy said dismissively. "What!?" Peter gasped.
"It was a small drop! And it was to save her too! I told her t' make a run fer it, and I was about to too, but a rafter that was on fire fell down and.." Davy shrugged. "She's probably okay. There's a pond out by the edge of town an' I told her to go there."
Micky laughed and grinned. "I'm Micky and this is Peter. There's another guy called Mike, who's currently out chasing a wanted criminal, probably the guy who burned the town down."
"Oh. my uncle?"
"YOUR UNCLE!" Peter and Micky yelled in unison. Davy scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, but we look nothing alike! I'm much handsomer wouldn't you think?" "Very," Micky said reassuringly. "But your uncle! God!"
Davy shrugged. "He's always been a wild guy."
They heard a horse come galloping back, with Mike atop it, sweaty and soaked. They all looked at him, eyebrows raised.
"I got caught in the crossfire of some water hoses," Mike grumbled. "I think we lost him." He glanced at Davy from under his sopping wet bangs. "Who's this?"
"Davy Jones, Darius Jones' nephew," he said, smiling. "Also the get-away groom, who won't be a get-away groom much longer if you can't get me out of here."
Mike shook his head, spraying them with water drops. "Well, I did find us another horse, if you still want it Peter.."
Peter didn't answer, his eyes trained on Mike's arms, which he could make out more because of how the wet clothing clung to his skin. Muscly, he thought absently. Never noticed that before. It's probably from all the physical things he does.
"Peter!"
"Oh, sorry," Peter muttered. "No, Davy can have the horse if he wants it..." "You sure?" Mike asked as Davy punched the air triumphantly. "I'm all wet..."
"That's okay," Peter said, smiling without meaning to, but meaning to at the same time.
Author: windywisp
Genre/Pairing: Torksmith atm
Rating: PG-13 atm
Warnings: AU, some language, a little bit of violence, nothing too bad..yet(hahhaho)
Disclaimer: ye it totally happened(no)
Summary: Peter decides to take a trip to the wild west, and gets loads more than what he bargained for.
Author's Note: omg sorry for taking so long! i went to ny and didnt get to any writing but this week i did
my school year's ending really soon so hopefully more updates??? idk but ye i hope you like it ;u;
"But Mike! It's a squaredance! You love square dances!"
"And with every single dance step you take, he's getting farther and farther away."
Micky snorted, tugging on his wolf-hat in annoyance. "But there'll girls! I don't know about you, I'd rather be dancing with a bunch of comely women than that - what's his name again?"
"He hasn't got one," Mike answered, squinting out at the barn Micky had pointed out a couple minutes ago. All the lights were on, lighting up the night sky and the sign out front advertised a square dance that anyone could attend. Mike said no way, but Micky wanted to, and Peter...well, Peter just wanted to go to sleep already.
"What do you mean he hasn't got one?" Peter yawned, head resting on Mike's shoulder. "Well, we don't know it, anyway. Micky!" he yelled in exasperation as the bandit tried to sneak quietly away. "Come back here."
Micky looked like he was about to argue more, so Peter just groaned and said,"Look, I really don't care what happens at this point, but something tells me Micky is just going to sneak off even if we do keep going, so i think we should just go. But not the whole time, we can only stay for a little. Is that okay?"
Mike looked back at Peter a little openmouthedly and then went back to staring at thr barn. "Well I think - Well, I guess that's a good idea, Pete."
"Good," Peter murmured, closing his eyes. Micky whooped and yanked his reigns to send his horse forward.
The barn actually smelled nice, something none of them had really experienced before. And just as Micky had predicted, there were more than enough pretty girls. But also more than enough handsome guys.
Micky groaned. "This always happens, there's always some one taller and buffer and probably dumber-"
"I'm gonna go lie down," Peter said, rubbing his eyes. "Hey, I'll come with ya," Mike said, following him over to a bench running along the sides of the wall.
"Why're you so tired, anyway?" Mike asked as Peter wrapped his arms around it. "I'm not used to staying up so late," Peter murmured.
Mike laughed. "I bet you were in bed by nine."
"Actually eight," Peter said, and cracked a smile.
Mike cocked his head a little, staring, but trying not to seem like he was. There was something about Peter's smile that was genuine and lit up everything that was dark. Mike pulled a little on his hair and turned away and watched Micky sidling up to a girl who had her arm around some macho cowboy man.
Mike rolled his eyes as he watched Micky be thrown halfway across the dancefloor into a bale of hay within seconds. He'd seen it all before. Micky tried to weirdly awkwardly flirt with some girl, his boyfriend got annoyed, picked him up, and either a.) beat him to a pulp b.) beat him into some pulpy juice or c.) got out a juicer, stuffed Micky into it, and-
"She wasn't worth it anyway, buddy," Mike said patting Micky on the back.
Micky just sulked, and looked over at Peter. "What's he doing? Sleeping?" "No, he's in a coma," Mike snorted. "Yeah, he's asleep."
Micky was about to make some smart comment when he was interrupted by a high pitched squeal from behind. Micky jumped about eight feet in the air and fell on Mike, hitting him in the face with his hand at the same time. Behind them were about five girls, giggling and biting their nails and staring at-
Peter.
"Oh, he's so adorable! Like a puppy!"
"I just want to hold him!"
"I just want to dance with him."
"Hey, get in line sister!"
Peter's eyebrows scrunched together and he slowly opened his eyes, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes to more excited squeals.
"Wh..?" Peter muttered, sitting up more.
Mike felt a little like he was introducing a new pet to friends and turned, rubbing the bruise Micky had given him on his cheek. "His name's Peter."
"Aw!" one of the blondes gasped. "What an adorable name!"
"Hi," Peter said, and smiled, and it was like Jesus had suddenly appeared before all of them and began blessing all of them with everlasting life or something. All the girls started clamoring forward, asking if he was single, if he wanted to dance, and Mike started to feel a little annoyed. He stood up from the bench. "Look, girls, he's not for sale. Go on now."
They all looked disappointed and sulky, turning to Peter and pouting. Peter just looked at Mike, and so did they. Mike shrugged and pointed off back to the dance floor and they left, grumbling.
"Thanks, Mike," Peter muttered. "That was actually kind of sort of extremely terrifying." Mike blushed a little and turned to answer when-
"ARE YOU KIDDING?" Micky yelled, shooting up from where he'd been lying on the bench. "That was babe central, Pete! You just - you passed up - hey girls!!! I'm available too!" he yelled, running across the barn.
"We gotta go soon, Micky!" Mike yelled after him. "I don't want 'em taking up more of our time."
But really though, his mind wasn't anywhere near Micky or time or even the criminal at this point. It was somewhere else very different, but also very close, who might just have blonde hair and a great smile.
-
"Rise and shine, Petey."
Peter moaned softly and pushed the hand ruffling his hair away.
"Early bird gets the worm."
"But I don't like worms," Peter whined, finally opening his eyes.
Micky was leaning over him, hair mussy and wild. "C'mon, man, we can't hang around all day. I mean, we could, but then Mike'd kick our asses."
"What's so important about all that money anyway?" Peter muttered, trying to untangle himself from the blankets he'd buried himself in. "Well," Micky said, handing him his shirt, "I'm going to either buy myself a big giant farm or go to a big city and just get the fanciest, nicest things ever. Oh, and food for the hungry orphans of course." Peter's head popped out from the top of his shirt, hair falling into his eyes. "What about Mike? What's he gonna do with it?"
"Dunno," Micky answered, sitting next to Peter. "He's never said anything and I've never asked. He's kind of - well, he's kind of not very....open." Peter nodded, knowing what he meant. With Micky, you could see if he was happy or angry or anything just by looking at him, and he didn't seem to have many secrets, but Mike...Mike's eyes were more closed off and he always looked like he was trying to figure you out before you figured him out.
"You guys up?" Peter straightened his shirt, crawling out of the tent after Micky. "Yeah, Mike," Peter said, standing up. "Where are we going?"
"Just into the next town. We're already out of food, and I'm pretty sure there'll be some food there. C'mon up, Pete."
"Maybe," Peter said, heaving himself up to the saddle. ",maybe there, we can get a horse - just for me?" He looked up at Mike, panting, catching a sharp emotion in his eyes before he turned away. "Yeah, sure Peter. Let's go, Micky." There was something strained in his voice Peter didn't quite catch.
Probably shouldn't dwell on it. Mike's weird. he thought, shaking his head.
The ride towards town was quiet other than Micky's endless chattering, but Peter had already learned to tune most of it out. He couldn't , though, when Micky pulled back on his horse's reigns and yelled,"Fire!"
Mike stopped abruptly too, muttering,"What in the livin' hell....C'mon Micky!" They picked up speed again and Peter peered over Mike's shoulder. The town was in flames, fire licking the light blue sky. Peter saw some women and children, dressed up nicely, come hurtling towards them. They slowed down as to not run them over.
Their faces were sooty and their dresses were ripped and charred. One of them, a pretty brunette, turned to Micky. "Oh, sir, please help! Someone set our town on fire while we was all at a weddin' and I can't find head nor tail of the groom or bride!"
Micky gazed at her, eyes a little glassy. "Oh, madam, we'll be sure to find your broom and gride. Don't worry." Mike reached over and pinched him, making him jump and glare at his friend. "Don't worry ma'am, we'll do our best. Any chance you know what he looked like?"
"Uhm, he was very scraggly, crinkly tan skin, a very scratchy barky laugh..."
"Yup, we got our man."
Mike turned to Micky and Peter."Micky, you and Pete go see if you can find the missing people, and I'll try an' find out who caused this mess. I think I may know who he is.."
"Will you be okay?" Peter asked, sliding off the saddle. Mike turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows. "Wuh?"
"Will you be okay."
"Oh, um, yeah Peter, thanks," Mike sort of mumbled. "See ya guys soon. We'll meet up here." He turned back to the reigns, hoping that the heat from the flames was the reason his face felt so warm.
Micky and Peter rode out through the streets, slowing around what looked like the church where the wedding had been Peter quickly started to feel warm and uncomfortable, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. He made the mistake of letting his hand slip to touch the metal part of the saddle and gasped as his fingers touched it. He sucked on his fingers woefully, trying to see past the haze of heat and fire.
Micky took off his hat, sweating. "Ugh, maybe we shouldn't have come in here...but that girl was pretty, Peter, even with all that soot on her - Did you hear that!?"
Peter looked at him wide-eyed as Micky put a finger to his lips, staring around.
"Help!"
Micky dropped down from the saddle, motioning for Peter to follow. They made their way past the sizzling brick of the church and through the open door. In the middle of the aisle was a raging wall of flames and behind it they could see a short man jumping up and down yelling.
"Hey, help!"
"Hold on!" Micky yelled back. "Ugh, shit Peter, have we got any water?" "Good idea, Micky, I'm thirsty too," Peter said digging around in their bags. Micky rolled his eyes and caught the water pouch Peter threw him. He dumped the entire thing in the fire, sending vapor up into the air and water splashing all over his shoes. He heard Peter gasp and reprimand him and before he could ask if Peter was sane or not, he was being tackled.
No, not tackled but...hugged?
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," the man gasped as Micky peeled him off his body. "I thought I was going to die! Horrible stuff, horrible! D'you think you could give me a lift outta here, it's much too warm-"
"Hold on," Micky said. "You're a Brit."
"Shocking new information!" the man quipped, thick eyebrows rising into his bangs. "I'm David Jones, call me Davy. I was supposed to get married t'day, but apparently not anymore!" He hummed, looking cheerful, and Peter cocked his head. "You're....happy about that?"
"Yes, well, it was sort of love at first sight, but then it was secret dislike at second week, and all of a sudden, I'm getting married! C'n ye believe it? At only 19! She was, what, 17?"
"Oh! Where's the bride?" Micky piped up. "Oh, I threw her out the window," Davy said dismissively. "What!?" Peter gasped.
"It was a small drop! And it was to save her too! I told her t' make a run fer it, and I was about to too, but a rafter that was on fire fell down and.." Davy shrugged. "She's probably okay. There's a pond out by the edge of town an' I told her to go there."
Micky laughed and grinned. "I'm Micky and this is Peter. There's another guy called Mike, who's currently out chasing a wanted criminal, probably the guy who burned the town down."
"Oh. my uncle?"
"YOUR UNCLE!" Peter and Micky yelled in unison. Davy scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, but we look nothing alike! I'm much handsomer wouldn't you think?" "Very," Micky said reassuringly. "But your uncle! God!"
Davy shrugged. "He's always been a wild guy."
They heard a horse come galloping back, with Mike atop it, sweaty and soaked. They all looked at him, eyebrows raised.
"I got caught in the crossfire of some water hoses," Mike grumbled. "I think we lost him." He glanced at Davy from under his sopping wet bangs. "Who's this?"
"Davy Jones, Darius Jones' nephew," he said, smiling. "Also the get-away groom, who won't be a get-away groom much longer if you can't get me out of here."
Mike shook his head, spraying them with water drops. "Well, I did find us another horse, if you still want it Peter.."
Peter didn't answer, his eyes trained on Mike's arms, which he could make out more because of how the wet clothing clung to his skin. Muscly, he thought absently. Never noticed that before. It's probably from all the physical things he does.
"Peter!"
"Oh, sorry," Peter muttered. "No, Davy can have the horse if he wants it..." "You sure?" Mike asked as Davy punched the air triumphantly. "I'm all wet..."
"That's okay," Peter said, smiling without meaning to, but meaning to at the same time.